^i 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


I 


ttilM  125 
US  ^^^  •■■ 
itt  l&i   122 

S  Hi  ■■ 
£  Its   12.0 


1.25  III  1.4 


IJ4 


'/ 


ScMices 
CorpQratiQn 


4s 


33  WIST  MAIN  STRHT 

WIBSTm,N.Y.  U5M 

(71*)  •72-4503 


A* 


4^' 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/iCIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  IMicroraproductions  /  Institiit  Canadian  da  microraproductions  hiatoriquas 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notaa  tachniquat  at  bibliographiquas 


Tha  Instituta  has  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  bast 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturas  of  this 
copy  which  may  ba  bibiiographicaily  uniqua. 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagas  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


□    Colourad  covers/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


I     I   Covars  damagad/ 


□ 


D 
D 


D 


n 


Couvartura  andommagAa 


Covers  rastorad  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  peilicul^e 


I — I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


I      I    Coloured  maps/ 


Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 


□    Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I     I   Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  an  coulaur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Rail*  avac  d'autras  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr^e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  ie  long  de  la  marge  intiriaura 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
li  se  peut  que  certainas  pages  blanches  ajouttes 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissant  dans  la  taxte, 
mais.  lorsqua  cela  Atait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  At4  filmias. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmantairas: 


Tha 
tot 


L'Institut  a  microf  llmA  le  meilleur  exemplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  4t*  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  dAtaiis 
da  cat  exemplaira  qui  sont  paut-Atra  uniques  du 
point  da  vue  bibliographiqua,  qui  pauvant  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvant  axiger  una 
modification  dans  la  mAthoda  normale  de  f ilmaga 
sont  indiquis  ci-dessous. 


I     I   Coloured  pages/ 


Q 


Pagaa  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagAes 

Pages  restored  and/oi 

Pages  restaurtes  et/ou  peiliculAes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxei 
Pages  d6colortes,  tachettes  ou  piquAes 


I — I   Pages  damaged/ 

I — I   Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 

r~~|   Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 


The 
pos 
oft 
film 


Ori| 
bag 
tha 
sioi 
oth 
firs 
sioi 
ori 


□Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditach^es 

HShowthrough/ 
Transparence 


Transparence 

Quality  of  prin 

Qualit*  inigala  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  matarii 
Comprend  du  material  supplAmantaira 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


I     I   Quality  of  print  varies/ 

r~n   Includes  supplementary  material/ 

I — I   Only  edition  available/ 


Tha 
sha 
TIN 

whi 

Mai 
diff 
antl 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalament  ou  partiallement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata.  une  pelure, 
etc..  ont  At*  fiimtes  A  nouveau  da  fapon  A 
obtanir  la  mailleura  image  poaaibla. 


rigli 
raqi 
mat 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  chackad  balow/ 

Ca  document  est  f  ilmA  au  taux  de  rMuction  indiqui  ci-dassous 

10X                           14X                           18X                           22X 

2tX 

aox 

y 

D 

12X 


16X 


aox 


a4x 


2tX 


32X 


«.^   .  staagpis^i' 


*tailt 
•  du 
modifier 
r  una 
Image 


Tha  copy  filmad  hara  haa  baan  raproducad  thanka 
to  ttM  o«n«roaity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


Tha  Imagaa  appearing  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
poaalbia  conaldaring  tha  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  In  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  apacif icatlona. 


L'axemplaire  film6  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g^niroaitA  da: 

BibiiothAque  nationale  du  Canada 


Lea  imagaa  auivantea  ont  4tA  reproduitea  avac  la 
plua  grand  aoin,  compta  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattetA  da  l'axemplaire  filmA,  et  en 
conformity  avac  las  conditiona  du  contrat  de 
fllmage. 


IS 


Original  copiaa  in  printed  paper  covera  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  laat  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  imprea- 
alon,  or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copiaa  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
firat  page  with  a  printed  or  illuatrated  imprea- 
aion,  and  ending  on  the  laat  page  with  a  printed 
or  illuatrated  impreaaion. 


Lea  axempiairea  origlnaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  eat  imprimte  aont  fiimAa  en  commenpant 
par  la  premier  plat  at  en  terminant  solt  par  la 
darnlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'Impreaslon  ou  d'iiluatration,  aoit  par  la  second 
plat,  aaion  le  cas.  Toua  lea  autrea  exemplaires 
origlnaux  aont  filmte  an  commen9ant  par  la 
pramlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impresslon  ou  d'iilustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
ahall  contain  tha  aymbol  — ^>  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  aymbol  ▼  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  appllaa. 


Un  dee  aymboias  sulvants  apparaftra  sur  la 
derniAre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
caa:  le  aymboia  — »•  signifie  "A  SUiVRE",  le 
aymbole  ▼  signifie  "FIN". 


Mapa.  plataa.  charta,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  large  to  be 
entirely  Included  in  one  expoaure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framea  aa 
required.  The  following  diagrama  illuatrata  the 
method: 


Lea  cartea.  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
fllmte  A  dee  taux  de  reduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  cllchA,  11  est  film*  A  partir 
de  Tangle  aupArieur  gauche,  de  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  la  nombra 
d'images  nAcesssire.  Les  diagrammes  suivanta 
illuatrant  la  mithoda. 


irrata 
to 


pelure. 
in  A 


□ 

32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

4 


f  '^ 


-*•■ 


LIFE  IN  THE      .^.:^     ' 


f 


WY  NUNNERY  AT  MONTREAL 


AX  AUTHENTIC!  K\RRATIVE 


OP  TTIR 


HORRORS,  MtSSBWES,  AND  CRUELTIES 


¥ 


■       rf 


I 


«*.* 

«^': 


V. 


■{fei! 


DAMRELL    4    K^-- 


♦ 


fll^>; 


LIFE  IN  THE    - 


\. 


GREY  NUNNERY  AT  MONTfil^AL. 


AN  AUTHENTIC  NARRATIVE 


.f 


OF  THE 


HORRORS,  MYSTERIES,  AND  CRUELTIES 


OF  €ONTBirT  LIVE. 


BY  SARAH  J.  RICHARDSON, 

AK  ESOAPBO  RVRr 


■%■■ 


BOSTON: 

DAHBELL  ft  MOORE,  PRINTERS 

1858. 


1' 


Enteral,  aecording  to  Aet  of  CongteM,  In  tho  jfr  1867,  bj 

KDWARD  P.  HOOD, 

In  the  Clerk'i  OSce  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Diitrict  of  Mamchnaettt. 


LITHOTYPBD    BT    OOWLES    AND    OOUPANT, 

At  the  pOoe  of  the  American  Stenotype  Company, 

PUCBKIZ  BUILDING,  BOSTON. 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  presenting  to  the  public  the  strange  and  startling 
narrative  of  Sabah  J.  Richardson,  it  has  not  been  the 
object  of  the  compiler  to  make  a  ''book  that  will  sell,"  or 
to  cater  to  the  taste  of  the  wonder-lovmg  crowd  by  making 
the  most  of  the  facts  before  her. 

In  no  case  has  she  allowed  herself  to  draw  upon  imag- 
ination for  material  to  make  out  the  story,  nor  has  she 
presumed  to  interrupt  the  narrative  with  such  remarks  or 
suggestions  as  may  have  occurred  to  her  own  mind.  But, 
leaving  the  reader  to  make  his  own  reflections,  draw  his 
own  inferences,  and  form  his  own  opinion  of  the  incidents 
related,  she  has  simply  endeavored  to  present  to  the  world 
the  plain,  unvarnished  story  of  cruelty  and  suffering,  as 
related  by  the  nun  herself.  That  it  may  invite  investigar 
tion,  and  elicit  truth,  is  the  earnest  wish  of 

The  Cohfiler. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Father's  Birth — Stranger  in  a  Strange  Land  —  Wanning 
the  Viper  —  Elopement  —  Deserted  Chamber  —  Beoson 
Dethroned  —  Death  —  Return  Home  —  Religions  Diffl- 
calties  — Parting  in  anger  —  Death  of  a  Deroted  Wife — 
Failing  in  Business— A  Child's  Grief — Given  to  Priest 
Dow — Leaving  a  Father 


CHAPTER  n. 

White  Nunnery — Deep  regret  —  Fearfbl  anticipations  — 
Signs  of  the  Cross — Prayers — Punishment — Alone  amid 
a  Crowd — Resolve  to  Obey — Miniature —  Cat-o'-nine-tai]» 
— Learn  Verses — Prayers — Breakfast — Scanty  Allow- 
ance —  Fasting  and  Confession  —  Receiving  the  Sacra- 
ment—  Absurd  Threat 


CHAPTER  m. 

The  Nursery — Exdrcise  —  Father  Darity — Catechism  — 
Perfect  Obedience  Required  —  No  Friend — Treachery — 
Three  Scenes  —  Image  of  Christ  —  Heaven  —  Hell  — 
Image  of  the  Devil  —  Fearful  Threat  —  Extremity  of 
Terror  —  Priestly  Artifice  —  Severe  Illness  —  Excited 
Imagination — Extreme  Weakness — Effects  of  Supersti- 
tious Terrors 17 


CHAPTER  IV. 

St.  Bridget  —  Strange  Conduct  —  Bitter  Grief—  A  Slave 
for  Life  —  Appeal  to  American  Citizens  —  Kindness  of 
1» 


^ 


CONTENTS. 


St.  Bride;ct  —  Dorangod  Nun  —  Concoaling  Brood —tcr- 
emony  on  Mooting  a  Priest  —  Sick  Little  Girls  —  Broken 
Hearts — Hard  Fate — Fiends  in  Human  Form  —  Igno- 
rancoof  Protestants  —  Silent  Grief — Superiors  Punished 
— No  One  to  be  Trusted — Good  Advice — Unpardon* 
•bio  Siu S5 

CHAPTER  V. 

Fears  Being  sent  back  to  the  Nursery  — Cmel  Abbess— > 
Taking  Care  of  the  Sick  — Only  way  to  avoid  Punish- 
ment—  Goes  to  Chapel — Pope's  Nuncio  —  Questions  — 
Gloomy  Prospects  —  Confirmation  —  White  Veil — Leav- 
ing a  Friend  —  Little  Girls  from  Ireland  —  Horrible 
Deception  —  Goes  to  Chapel  —  Apostles  —  Candles  — 
Two  Coffins— Is  laid  in  a  Coffin— Fear  of  Death  — 
Grey  Nunnery  Suit —  Starts  for  Montreal  —  Coffins  taken 
to  Montreal 33 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Grey  Nunnery  Described —  Something  to  Conceal  —  Black 
Cloisters  —  Black  Nuns — Black  Book — Lady  Superior 

—  Short  Allowance  —  Strict  Rules  —  Trial  of  Obedience 

—  Go  to  Work  in  the  Kitchen  —  Only  five  Minutes  Con- 
versation — Perfect  Silence  the  Rest  of  the  Day  —  School 
for  young  Ladies  —  Cooking  for  Saloons — Severe  Trial 

of  Temper 43 

CHAPTER  VIL 

Pretended  Benevolence  —  Childrens  Rooms. —  Number  of 
Scholars  —  Other  Inmates  —  Rigid  Espionage  —  Cere- 
mony when  a  Priest  Enters — Easy  Life — Kind  Superior 
— Ceremony  of  Consecration — Crown  of  Thorns  —  What 
will  it  Avail  —  New  Superior —  Sudden  Death  —  Terrible 
Suspicion  —  No  questions  Allowed — Separation — Strict 
Rules  —  Strapped  down  to  the  Bed — Strives  to  do  Right 

—  Punished  for  the  least  Trifle 51 


CHAPTER  Vin. 
Ceremony  01)  Entering  a  Priest's  Room — Accident —;  Sor- 


rONTENTfl. 

row  and  Confetaion  of  no  Avail — Coal  Cellar—  ConAned 
in  a  Coll  —  DarknoM  and  Terror  —  Horrible  Anticipa- 
tiona  —  "  Ii  there  a  Go<l  "  —  Taken  from  the  Cell  — 
A^ain  Punished  —  Looking  Upon  the  Dead  —  Horrible 
Threat  —  Puniihed  for  making  a  Noise  —  Dry  Poas  — 
Underground  PMiage — Blackboard  —  Utter  Hopelossnosi 
—  Return — Frays  for  Death 


.60 


CHAPTEB  IX. 

The  Tomb— Abrard  Threat— St.  Joseph's  Well  — Nar- 
row Pathway  —  Alone'  with  the  Dead  —  Superstitious 
Fears — No  Laughing  Affair — Bones  —  Human  Skulls 

—  Fearftil  Alternative — Hunger — Ridiculous  Pretense 
Leaves  the  Tomb — Starved  Nun  —  Generous  Action  — 
Mad  Nun — Sympathy — Indignation  —  Fastened  to  the 
Bed-cord  —  "  What  shall  we  do  with  Her  "  —  Maddening 
Thought 69 

CHAPTER  X. 

Sick  Nun  —  Longing  for  Sympathy  —  Stealing  Brandy  — 
Frightful  Results  —  Fears  Awakened  —  Noble  minded 
Nun — Candid  Confession  —  Punishment  —  Dying  Nun 
— Will  Confess  to  no  one  but  God  —  Passionate  Threat  ^ 

—  Firm  reply  —  Given  to  the  Devil — Looking  at  the 
Corpse  —  Private  Conversation — Resolves  to  Escape — 

No  Place  worse  than  this  —  Closely  Watched 78 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Escape  from  the  Convent  —  Kindness  a  crime — Joy  of 
Freedom — Fears  of  Pursuit — Terrible  Dilemma — Sor- 
rowfal  Parting — Kind  Captain  —  Heavy  Fine  —  Leaves 
the  Boat  —  Tired  and  Hungry — The  old  Bam — Luxury 
of  Repose  —  Cheering  Sight  —  Generous  Woman  —  The 
Island— -Indian  Family — Inducement  to  Flee  —  Cross 
over  to  St.  Re^s  —  One  alternative — Parting  of  the  two 
Nuns'—  The  Tow-boat— Kind-hearted  Captain 100 

CHAPTER  Xn. 
Sea  Sickness — Stranger  in  a  Strange  place— An  age  of 


1;    «, 


vni 


CONTENTS. 


Misery — Village  Hotel  —  Kind  Landlady — Candid  Con- 
fession— Exquisite  Enjoyment — Amiable  Sister  —  De- 
luded Parents — Pleasant  prospects  Overcast — Chamber  of 
Death  —  Poisoned  —  Cruel  Deception — Presentiment — 
Base  Falsehood — Resolute  Father ^ ......... . 


.98 


CHAPTER  XHL  ' 

Landlady's  story  Continued — At  home  Again  —  Deception 
Exposed  —  Tears  Forbidden  —  Compelled  to  Smile  — 
Priests  Guilty  of  Falsehood  ~- Forgery — Going  down  to 
the  Grave — Knew  too  much  to  be  allowed  to  Live — Medi- 
cal Skill  of  no  Avail -—Letters  Destroyed — Story  of  Con- 
vent Life , 105 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Landlady's  Sister — Flans  for  Concealment — New  Hostess 
— Regret — Dangerous  Employment  —  Land  of  Dreams 
—  Suddenly  Aroused — Midnight  Intruder — Cruelly  Be- 
trayed—Bitter  Anguish — Lonely  Midnight  Ride — Arri- 
val at  St.  Regis— Carried  to  the  Church — Canal  Boat — 
Attempts. Suicide — Closely  Watched — Arrival  at  Mon- 
treal— Ludicrous  Sight 113 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Arrival  at  the  Convent — Punishment — The  Lime  Rdom— 
Fasting  Room  —  Starved  to  Death — Atmosphere  a  Deadly 
Poison  —  Iron  Kettles  —  Disgusting  Relics  —  Frightful 
Suggestions — Blindfolded — Chained  in  a  Cell — Instru- 
ments of  Torture — Figure  Representing  the  Devil — How 
about  That  Key 1 20 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Visited  by  a  Woman — Five  Days  without  Food — Intolera- 
ble Agony — Unconsciousness— Carried  to  the  Kitchen— 
Pail  full  of  Wine  —  Carried  to  Bed  —  Stolen  Pea  — 

•  Humanity  a  Crime — Kindness  of  the  Abbess —  Watching 
a  Chance  to  Escape  —  Secret  Subterranean  Apartments  — 
Skeptical  Visitors— What  Pure  Minds  Think 129 


mmm 


CONTENTS. 


tx 


CHAPTER  XVn. 

Remarks — Who  will  Believe  the  Tale— Both  FeetB«med-- 
Woman  on  the  Back — Patience  and  Fortitude — No  sach 
Being^  as  God— Poor  Motherless  Children — Intolerable 
Misery — Monk  under  Punishment — Mysterious  Closet 
— Ifuger  Nails  torn  Off — Goes  back  to  the  Kitchen — No 
Escape  —  Goes  into  the  Country — Monk's  Residence  — 
Pleasant  Place — Works  on  the  Farm  —  Closely  Watched 

—  Hard  Labor— Widow  Ladies 136 

CHAPTER  XVni. 

Returns  ta  the  Nunnery— > False  Charge — Unjust  Punish^ 
ment —  Crown  of  Thorns  —  Breaking  down  the  Spirit— 
Burned  with  Hot  Tongs— Punished  for  a  mere  Accident 

—  Walking  on  Tiptoe— Cruel  Abbess— Retaliation  — 
Expect  Punishment— A  Priest  Stabbed— Nuns  try  to 
Torment  Him  —  Monotonous  Life — ^Beautiful  Lady — 
Worth  of  a  Smile  —  Cruel  Order  of  the  Abbess — Refuse 

to  Ob^->B«venge— Severe  Reproof— All  Punished. . . .  ..143 

CHAPTER  XCE. 

Sickness  and  Death  of  a  Superior- A  Nun  accuses  herself 
of  Murder — Smtenced  to  be  HUng— The  Confession  — 
"Is  it  Right"— No  Fear  of  Death  —  Catholicism  all  tf 
Fable —  A  Fearful  Sight — Once  more  Resolves  to  Esciqie 

—  Strange  Proceeding  —  Alone  —  Superstitious  Fears  — 
Sleepless  Night — Appeal  to  the  Priest 153 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Students  at  the  Academy —  Conversation  Forbidden — Paint- 
ers—  Sudden  Illness  —  Suspicion  of  Poison— A  Nun 
Accused  —  Put  upon  die  Rack  —  Confession  —  Great 
Provocation — WiU  not  tell  where  she  got  the  Poison— ^ 
Terrible  Doom  — Student  from  New  England— Sisqr 
Smalley— The  Convent  a  Nice  Place 158 

CHAPTER  XXL 
Again  Escapes  —  Market — Dark  Alley — B»Iice  Offioert  •— 


I 


' ;  i 


\i  K 


Mf 


p 


# 


r  dOMTENTS. 

Meets  Two  Priests  —  Catering  at  Straws— Salutation-^ 
The  Church  •<«H.  Agonizing  Suspense — Again  on  the  Wagr 

—  Hiding  in  a  Cellar  Hole — Hospitality  —  Lady  St.  Oars 
•^Kindness  of  a  Frenchman — Graveyard — More  airaid 

of  the  Living  than  the  Dead 162 

CHAPTER  XXn. 

Travel  all  KTight— Enter  a  Thick  Wood— Solitude,  Dark- 
ness, and  Cold  —  Bitter  Beflections  —  Voice  of  the  Storm 

—  Falls  Asleep — Hungry —  Cold  and  Sick — Weary  and 
Friendless — Striving  for  Liberty — Benewed  Efforts — 

—  The  Good  Samaritan  —  Shoes  Lost  in  the  Mud  — 
Acceptable  Present — At  the  Depot — Almost  Crazy — 
Wealthy  Lady — Fears  of  Treachery — Arrival  at  St. 
Albans  —  Finds  a  Friend  —  Happy  Home  —  Holy  Scap- 
qlary at.- 167 

CHAPTEB  XXm. 

Alarming  Discovery — Fleeing  for  Life — A  sad  BCsstep— 
Again  Overtaken  —  Gagged  —  Thrust  into  a  Box  — 
Gloomy  Prospect  —  Bitter  Beproach  —  Four  men  to 
Guard  one  Nun — Carried  to  Montreal — Taken  to  a  Cell 

—  Sentenced  to  Seven  Days  Starvation — Indignation  — 
Despir— Starving  to  Death— A  Nun's  Opinion— AU 
Atheists  —  Severe  Illness  —  Private  Conversation  —  At 
Work  Again — Weary  of  Life — Underground  Passages 

—  Could  not  Sleep  —  The  One  Great  Object 177 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Dreaded  December — Black  Veil  —  On  the  Verge  of 
ififecbiess  —  Forbidden  Closet  —  A  Strange  Unnatural 
Liiigh — No  Hope  but  in  Death  — Benefit  of  Plain  Looks 
— Escape  once  More — A  Seaet— Stopped  by  the  Guard 
—Will  Never  be  Taken  Back  Alive  — Exultant  Joy— 
Ferry-boat  —  Passage  Refused — Again  Pursued  —  Seeks 
Protection — Is  Concealed  in  the  Ashes — House  Searched 

—  Kindness  —  Once  more  Pursued  —  Priests  —  Orange 
men  carried  to  St.  Oars 186 


•ni^fO"*" 


CONTEl^^ 
CHAPTER  XXV. 


XI 


Kindneit  of  Mr.  Stots  —  Good  Adrice  —  Left  at  dw  Depot 
— Dare  not  wait  for  the  Cars  —  Railroad  Bridge— Peri- 
lous  Walk  —  Draw-Bridge  —  "Are  you  Cn»y"  —  A 
Flatterer  and  Deceiver — En  route  for  Albany — Half-Way 
House  —  Cruel  Insinuation  —  Reach  Albany  late  at  Night 

—  Met  by  a  Watchman  —  Mr.  Williams  —  Cordial  Recep- 
tion— Real  Friends — Startling  Incident — Intruder  Es- 
capes — Liberty  or  Death —  Sad  Parting  —  "  Shall  I  Never 
find  a  Home  " — Incident  in  the  Cars — Gentlemanly  Con- 
ductor—  Arrival  at  Worcester  —  Sees  a  Priest  at  the 
Depot — Finds  Friends,  and  Employment 205 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Seeking  Employment  in  Worcester  —  Goes  out  to  Washing 
— Finds  a  home  with  Mr.  Goddard — Restless  and  Suspi- 
cious—  Always  on  the  Qui-vive — A  Secret  Revealed: — 
Employed  by  Amos  R.  Black  —  Marriflg^^<i>-  Drury  Farm 

—  Relates  her  History —  Testimonials. . . .  i 217 


m 


i 


fU 


si^- 


it 


;'f' 


ilF- 


, 


i^ 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX  I. 
Absurdities  of  Bomanists 217 

APPENDIX  II. 
Craelty  of  Romanists .......,< 236 

APPENDIX  nL 
Inquisition  of  Goa 242 

APPENDIX  IV. 
Inquisition  of  Goa,  Concluded.. •. 257 

APPENDIX  V. 
Inquisition  at  Macerata 363 

APPENDIX  VI. 
Romanism  of  the  Present  Day 293 

APPENDIX  Vn. 
Narfative  of  Signorina  Florenoia  D'Romani 300 

y  ■  ■ . 


mmmmmmmmmm 


% 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PARENTAGE. FATHEr's    MARRIAGE. 

I  WAS  born  at  St.  John's,  New  Brunswick,  in  the 
year  1835.  My  father  was  from  the  city  of  Dub- 
lin, Ireland,  where  he  spent  his  youth,  and  received 
an  education  in  accordance  with  the  strictest  rules 
of  Roman  Catholic  faith  and  practice.  Early  man- 
hood, however,  found  him  dissatisfied  with  his  native 
country,  longing  for  other  scenes  and  distant  climes. 
He  therefore  left  Ireland,  and  came  to  Quebec. 

Here  he  soon  became  acquainted  with  Capt. 
Willard,  a  wealthy  English  gentleman,  who,  find- 
ing him  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  kindly  opened 
his  door,  and  gave  him  employment  and  a  home. 
Little  did  he  think  that  in  so  doing  he  was  warm- 
ing in  his  bosom  a  viper  whose  poisonous  fangs 
would,  ere  long,  fasten  on  his  very  heart-strings, 
and  bring  down  his  grey  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave.  His  Qi;j(|^  child  was  a  lovely  daughter  of 
fourteen.  Fin^  what  I  have  heard  of  her,  I  think 
she  must  have  been  very  beautiful  in  person,  quiet, 


I 


fe  -V  If 


2  LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 

gentle  and  unassuming  in  her  deportment,  and  her 
disposition  amiable  and  affectionate.  She  was 
exceedingly  romantic,  and  her  mental  powers  were 
almost,  if  not  entirely  uncultivated ;  still,  she  pos- 
sessed sufficient  strength  of  character  to  enable  her 
to  form  a  deep,  ardent,  and  permanent  attachment. 

The  young  stranger  gazed  upon  her  with  admir- 
ing eyes,  and  soon  began  to  whisper  in  her  ear  the 
flattering  tale  of  love.  This,  of  course,  her  parents 
could  not  approve.  What !  give  their  darling  to  a 
stranger  ?  Never,  no,  never.  What  could  they  do 
without  her  ?  Grieved  that  their  kindness  should 
have  been  thus  returned,  they  bade  him  go  his  way, 
and  leave  their  child  in  peace.  He  did  go,  but  like 
a  thief  he  returned.  In  the  darkness  of  midnight 
he  stole  to  her  chamber,  and  bore  away  from  the 
home  of  her  childhood,  "  a  father's  joy,  a  mother's 
pride." 

Who  can  tell  the  anguish  of  their  souls  when 
they  entered  that  deserted  chamber  ?  How  deso- 
late their  lonely  hearthstone !  How  dark  the  home 
where  her  presence  had  scattered  rainbow  hues! 
A  terrible  blow  it  was  to  Capt.  Willard;  a  very  bit- 
ter thing  thus  to  have  his  cherished  plans  frustrated, 
his  brightest  hopes  destroyed ;  to  see  the  very  sun 
of  his  existence  go  down  at  midday  in  clouds  and 
darkness.  Yes,  to  the  stern  father  this  sad  event 
brought  bitter,  bitter  grief.  But  to  the  mother  — 
,  that  tender,  affectionate  mother,  it  was  death.  Yea, 
more  than  death,  for  reason,  at  the  first  shock,  reeled 
and  tottered  on  its  throne ;  then,  as  days  and 


EETUBN  HOME. 


weeks  passed  by,  and  still  the  loved  one  did  not 
return,  when  every  effort  to  find  her  had  been  made 
in  vain,  then,  the  dread  certainty  settled  down  upon 
her  soul  that  her  child  was  lost  to  her  forever.  Hope 
gave  place  to  despair,  and  she  became,  from  that 
time,  a  raving  maniac.  At  length  death  came  to 
her  relief,  and  her  husband  was  left  alone. 

Six  weary  years  passed  over  the  lonely  man,  and 
then  he  rejoiced  in  the  intelligence  that  his  child 
was  still  living  with  her  husband  at  St.  John's.  He 
immediately  wrote  to  her,  imploring  her  to  return 
to  her  old  home,  and  with  the  light  of  her  presence 
dispel  the  gloom  of  his  dwelling.  Accordingly 
she  left  St.  John's,  and  in  company  with  her  hus- 
band returned  to  her  father.  I  was  then  about  a 
year  and  a  half  old,  but  I  have  so  often  heard  these 
facts  related  by  my  father  and  grandfather,  they 
are  indelibly  impressed  on  my  mind,  and  will  never 
be  erased  from  my  memory. 

My  mother  now  thought  her  trouble  at  an  end, 
that  in  future  she  should  enjoy  the  happiness  she 
once  anticipated.  But,  alas,  for  idl  human  pros- 
pects !  Ere  one  short  month  had  passed,  difficulties 
arose  in  consequence  of  the  difference  in  their 
religious  opinions.  Capt  Willard  was  a  firm  Prot- 
estant, while  my  father  was  quite  as  firm  in  his 
belief  of  the  principles  of  the  Roman  Catholics. 
"  Can  two  walk  together  except  they  be  agreed  ?  " 
They  parted  in  anger,  and  my  father  again  became 
a  wanderer,  leaving  his  wife  and  child  with  his 
father-in-law.     But  my  mother  was  a  faithful, 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


i      I 


i^:^ 


devoted  wife.  Her  husband  was  her  heart's  chosen 
idol  whom  she  loved  too  well  to  think  of  being 
separated  from.  She  therefore  left  her  father's 
house,  with  all  its  luxuries  and  enjoyments,  to  fol- 
low the  fortunes  of  one,  who  was  certainly  unwor- 
thy of  the  pure  affection  thus  lavished  upon 
him.  As  her  health  had  been  delicate  for  the  last 
two  years,  she  concluded  to  leave  me  with  her  father 
for  a  short  time,  intending  to  send  for  me,  as 
soon  as  she  was  in  a  situation  to  take  care  of  me. 
But  this  was  not  to  be.  Death  called  her  away, 
and  I  saw.  my  mother  no  more  till  her  corpse  was 
brought  back,  and  buried  in  her  father's  garden. 

Two  years  I  remained  with  my  grandfather,  and 
from  him,  I  received  the  most  affectionate  and 
devoted  attention.  My  father  at  length  opened  a 
saloon,  for  the  sale  of  porter,  and  hired  a  black  woman 
to  do  his  work.  He  then  came  for  me.  My  grand- 
father entreated  that  I  might  be  allowed  to  remain. 
Well  he  knew  that  my  father  was  not  the  man  to 
be  entrusted  with  the  care  of  a  child — that  a  Por- 
ter House  was  no  place  for  me,  for  he  was  quite 
sure  that  stronger  liquors  than  porter  were  there 
drank  and  sold.  In  fact,  it  was  said,  that  my  father 
was  himself  a  living  evidence  of  this.  But  it  is  of 
a  parent  I  am  speaking,  and,  whatever  failings  the 
world  may  have  seen  in  him,  to  me  he  was  a  kind 
and  tender  father.  The  years  I  spent  with  him 
were  the  happiest  of  my  life.  On  memory's  page 
they  stand  out  in  bold  relief,  strikingly  contrasting 
with  the  wretchednesss  of  my  after  life.     And 


HAPPT  DATS  OF  CHILDHOOD. 


though  I  cannot  forget  that  his  own  rash  act  brought 
this  wretchedness  upon  me,  still,  I  believe  his 
motives  were  good.  I  know  that  he  loved  me,  and 
every  remembrance  of  his  kindness,  and  those  few 
bright  days  of  childhood,  I  have  carefully  cherished 
as  a  sacred  thing.  He  did  not,  however,  succeed 
in  the  business  he  had  undertaken,  but  lost  his  prop- 
erty and  was  at  length  compelled  to  give  up  his 
saloon. 

I  was  then  placed  in  a  Koman  Catholic  family, 
where  he  often  visited,  and  ever  appeared  to  feel 
for  me  the  most  devoted  attachment.  One  day  he 
came  to  see  me  in  a  state  of  partial  intoxication. 
I  did  not  then  know  why  his  face  was  bo  red,  and 
his  breath  so  offensive,  but  I  now  know  that  he 
was  under  the  influence  of  ardent  spirits.  The 
woman  with  whom  I  boarded  seeing  his  condition, 
and  being  a  good  Catholic,  resolved  to  make  the 
most  of  the  occasion  for  the  benefit  of  the  nunnery. 
She  therefore  said  to  him,  ^*  You  are  not  capable  of 
bringing  up  that  child ;  why  don't  you  give  her  to 
Priest  Dow?"  — «  Will  he  take  her?"  asked  my 
father.  "  Yes,"  she  replied, "  he  will  put  her  into 
the  nunnery,  and  the  nuns  will  take  better  care  of 
her  than  you  can."  **  On  what  condition  will  they 
take  her?"  he  asked.  '^  Give  the  priest  one  hun- 
dred dollars,"  replied  the  artful  woman,  "  and  he 
will  take  good  care  of  her  as  long  as  she  lives." 

This  seemed  a  very  plausible  story ;  but  I  am 
sure  my  father  did  not  realize  what  he  v/as  doing. 
Had  he  waited  for  a  little  reflection,  he  would  never 
1* 


:4' 


hi 

It 


« 


C 


LIFE  IN  THE  ORET  KUMNERT. 


have  consented  to  such  an  anrangement,  and  my 
fate  would  have  been  quite  different.  But  as  it 
was,  he  immediately  sent  for  the  priest,  and  gave 
me  to  him,  to  be  provided  for,  as  his  own  child, 
until  I  was  of  age.  I  was  then  to  be  allowed  to 
go  out  into  the  world  if  I  chose.  To  this.  Priest 
Dow  consented,  in  consideration  of  one  hundred 
dollars,  which  he  received,  together  with  a  good 
bed  and  bedding.  My  mother's  gold  ear-rings 
were  also  entrusted  to  his  care,  until  I  should  be 
aid  enough  to  wear  them.  But  I  never  saw  them 
again.  Though  I  was  at  that  time  but  six  years 
old,  I  remember  perfectly,  all  that  passed  upon 
that  memorable  occasion.  I  did  not  then  com- 
prehend the  full  meaning  of  what  was  said,  but  I 
understood  enough  to  fill  my  heart  with  sorrow  and 
apprehension. 

When  their  bargain  was  completed.  Priest  Dow 
called  me  to  him,  saying,  with  a  smile,  **  You  are 
a  stubborn  little  girl,  I  guess ;  a  little  naughty, 
sometimes,  are  you  not  ?  "  Surprised  and  alarmed, 
I  replied, "  No,  sir."  He  then  took  hold  of  my 
hair,  which  was  rather  short,  drew  it  back  from 
my  forehead  with  a  force  that  brought  the  tears 
to  my  eyes,  and  pressing  his  hand  heavily  on  my 
head,  he  again  asked  if  I  was  not  sometimes  a 
little  wilful  and  disobedient.  I  was  so  much  £right- 
ened  at  this,  I  turned  to  my  father,  and  with  tears 
and  sobs  entreated  him  not  to  send  me  away  with 
that  man,  but  allow  me  to  stay  at  home  with  him. 
He  drpw  me  to  Ms  bosom,  wiped  away  my  tears, 


THE  FIRST  GRIEF. 


and  sought  to  quiet  my  fears  by  assuring  me  that 
I  would  have  a  good  and  pleasant  home;  that 
the  nuns  would  take  better  care  of  me  than  he 
could ;  and  that  he  would  often  come  to  see  me. 
Thus,  by  the  aid  of  flattery  on  one  side,  and  sugar- 
plums on  the  other,  they  persuaded  me  at  last  to 
accompany  the  priest  to  the  White  Nunnery,  St 
Paul's  street,  Quebec. 

I  was  too  young  to  realize  the  sad  change  in 
my  situation,  or  to  anticipate  the  trials  and  priva- 
tions that  awaited  me.  But  I  was  deeply  grieved 
thus  to  leave  my  father,  my  only  real  friend,  my 
mother  being  dead,  and  my  grandfather  a  heretic, 
whom  I  had  been  taught  to  regard  with  the  utmost 
abhorrence.  Little,  however,  did  I  think  that  this 
was  a  last  farewell.  But  such  it  was.  Though 
he  had  promised  to  come  often  to  see  me,  I  never 
saw  my  father  again ;  never  even  heard  from  him ; 
and  now,  I  do  not  know  whether  he  is  dead  or 
alive. 


k   > 


r 


i>  i. 


,'M 


'if 


CHAPTER    II. 


THE    WHITE   NUNNERY. 


On  my  arrival  at  the  nunnery,  I  was  placed  under 
the  care  of  a  lady  whom  they  called  a  Superior. 
She  took  me  into  a  room  alone,  and  told  me  that 
the  priest  would  come  to  me  in  the  morning  to 
hear  confession,  and  I  must  confess  to  him  all  my 
sins.  "  What  are  sins  V*  1  asked,  and,  '^  How  shall 
I  confess  ?  I  don't  know  what  it  means."  *^  Don't 
know  what  sins  are ! "  she  exclaimed  in  great  as- 
tonishment. "  Why,  child,  I  am  surprised  that  you 
should  be  so  ignorant !  Where  have  you  lived  all 
your  days  ?  "  With  all  the  simplicity  of  childhood, 
I  replied,  ^  With  my  father ;  and  once  I  lived  with 
my  grandfather ;  but  they  did  n't  tell  me  how  to 
confess."  "  Well,"  said  she,  "  you  must  tell  the 
priest  all  you'  wicked  thoughts,  words,.and  actions." 
"  What  is  wicked  ?  "  I  innocently  asked.  "  If  you 
have  ever  told  an  untruth,"  she  replied,  ^^  or  taken 
what  did  not  belong  to  you,  or  been  in  any  way 
naughty,  disobedient,  or  unkind ;  if  you  have  been 
angry,  or  quarrelled  with  your  playmates,  that  was 
wicked,  and  you  viust  tell  the  priest  all  about  it. 
If  you  try  to  conceal,  or  keep  back  anything,  the 
priest  will,  know  ii.  aod  p  (txish  you.     You  cannot 


mV     ' ! 


dTRIOT  BULES. 


■\eo.e,i\:.  him  if  you  try,  for  he  knows  all  you  do,  or 
say,  or  even  think ;  and  if  you  attempt  it,  you  11 
only  get  yourself  into  trouble.  But  if  you  are 
resolved  to  be  a  good  girl,  kind,  gentle,  frank,  sin- 
cere, and  obedient,  the  priest  will  love  you,  and  be 
kind  to  you." 

When  I  >vah  cir/'.ticted  to  my  room,  at  bed- 
time, I  rejon  3(]  ^o  find  in  it  several  little  cot  beds, 
oc  :upi«  (1  by  little  girls  about  my  own  age,  who  had 
been,  like  myself,  consigned  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  priests  and  nuns.  I  thought  if  we  must  live  in 
that  great  gloomy  house,  which  even  to  my  child- 
ish imagination  seemed  so  much  like  a  prison,  we 
could  ill  some  degree  dispel  our  loneliness  and  mit- 
igate our  sorrows,  by  companionship  and  sympathy. 
But  I  was  soon  made  to  khow  that  even  this  small 
comfort  would  not  be  allowed  us,  for  the  Superior, 
as  she  assisted  me  to  bed,  told  me  that  I  must  Jiot 
speak,  or  groan,  or  turn  upon  my  side,  or  move  in 
any  way ;  for  if  I  made  the  least  noise  or  disturb- 
ance, I  would  be  severely  punished.  She  assured 
me  that  if  we  disobeyed  in  the  least  particular,  she 
would  know  it,  even  if  she  was  not  present,  and 
deal  with  us  accordingly.  She  said  that  when  the 
clock  strjck  twelve,  the  bell  would  ring  for  prayers; 
that  L,  must  then  rise,  and  kneel  with  our  heads 
bowed  upon  the  bed,  and  repeat  the  prayer  she 
taught  us.  When,  at  length,  she  left  us,  locking 
the  door  after  her,  I  was  so  frightened,  I  did  not 
dare  to  sleep,  lest  I  should  move,  or  fail  to  awake 
at  the  proper  time. 


I 


I 


Ti 


y 


U     f 


1 1 


10 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


Slowly  passed  the  hours  of  that  long  and  weary 
night,  while  I  lay,  waiting  the  ringing  of  the  bell, 
or  thinking  upon  the  past  with  deep  regret.  The 
most  fearful  visions  haunted  my  brain,  and  fears 
of  future  punishment  filled  my  mind.  How  could 
I  hope  to  escape  it,  vhen  they  were  so  very  strict, 
and  able  to  read  my  most  secret  thoughts  ?  What 
would  I  not  have  given  could  I  have  been  again 
restored  to  my  father  ?  True  he  was  intemperate, 
but  at  that  time  I  thought  not  of  this ;  I  only  knew 
that  he  was  always  kind  to  me,  that  he  never 
refused  what  I  asked  of  him.  I  sometimes  think, 
even  now,  that  if  he  had  not  so  cruelly  thrust  me 
from  him,  I  might  have  been  able  to  win  him  from 
his  cups  and  evil  course  of  life.  But  this  was  not 
to  be.  Having  given  himself  up  to  the  demon  of 
intemperance,  it  is  not  surprising  that  he  should 
have  given  away  his  only  child ;  that  he  should 
have  placed  her  in  the  hands  of  those  who  proved 
utterly  unworthy  of  the  trust.  But  however  indig- 
nant I  may  at  times  have  felt  towards  him,  for  the 
one  great  wrong  he  committed  against  me,  still  I 
do  not  believe  he  would  ever  have  done  it  but  for 
the  influence  of  ardent  spirits.  Moreover,  I  do  not 
suppose  that  he  had  the  least  idea  what  kind  of  a 
place  it  was.  He  wished,  doubtless,  that  his  child 
might  be  well  educated ;  that  she  might  be  shielded 
from  the  many  trials  and  temptations  that  cluster 
around  the  footsteps  of  the  young  and  inexperi- 
enced, in  the  midst  of  a  cold  and  heartless  world. 
From  these  evils  the  nunnery,  he  thought,  would 


MIDNIGHT  DEVOTIONS. 


11 


be  a  secure  retreat,  for  there  science,  religion,  and 
philanthropy,  professedly^  go  hand  in  hand.  Like 
many  other  deluded  parents,  he  thought  that "  Holi- 
ness to  the  Lord "  was  inscribed  upon  those  walls, 
and  that  nothing  which  could  pervert  or  defile  the 
youthful  mind,  was  permitted  to  enter  there.  With 
these  views  and  feelings,  he  was  undoubtedly  sin- 
cere when  he  told  me,  "  I  would  have  a  good  home, 
and  the  nuns  would  take  better  care  of  me  than  he 
could.''  Rash  his  decision  certainly  was,  cruel  it 
proved  to  be ;  but  I  shall  ever  give  him  credit  for 
good  intentions. 

At  length  the  bell  rang,  and  all  the  girls  immedi- 
ately left  their  beds,  and  placed  themselves  upon 
their  knees.  I  followed  their  example,  but  I  had 
scarcely  time  to  kneel  by  my  bed,  when  the  Superior 
came  into  the  room  with  a  light  in  her  hand,  and 
attended  by  a  priest.  He  came  to  me,  opened  a 
book,  and  told  me  to  cross  myself.  This  ceremony 
he  instructed  me  to  perform  in  the  following  man- 
ner: the  right  hand  is  placed  upon  the  forehead, 
and  drawn  down  to  the  breast;  then  across  the 
breast  from  left  to  right.  The  Superior  then  told 
me  to  say  the  prayer  called  "Hail  Mary!"  I 
attempted  to  do  so,  but  failed,  for,  though  I  had 
often  repeated  it  after  my  father,  I  could  not  say  it 
correctiy  alone.  She  then  bade  me  join  my  hands, 
and  repeat  it  after  her.  "Hail  Mary!  Full  of  grace! 
The  Lord  be  with  thee !  Blessed  art  thou  among 
women !  Blessed  is  the  fruit  of  thy  womb,  Jesus ! 
Mother  of  God !  Pray  for  us  sinners,  now,  and  at 
the  hour  of  our  death.  Amen." 


12 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


"  Now,"  said  the  Superior,  as  I  rose  from  my 
knees,  "  you  must  learn  every  word  of  that  prayer 
before  to-morrow  night,  or  go  without  your  supper." 
I  tried  my  best  to  remember  it,  but  with  so  little 
instruction,  for  she  repeated  it  to  me  but  once,  I 
found  it  quite  impossible  the  next  night  to  say  it 
correctly.  Of  course,  I  was  compelled  to  go  with- 
out my  supper.  This  may  seem  a  light  punishment 
to  those  who  have  enough  to  eat — who  sit  down 
to  a  full  table,  and  satisfy  their  appetite  three  times 
per  day,  but  to  a  nun,  who  is  allowed  only  enough 
to  sustain  life,  it  is  quite  a  different  thing.  And 
especially  to  a  child,  this  mode  of  punishment  is 
more  severe,  and  harder  to  bear  than  almost  any 
other.  I  thought  I  would  take  good  care  not  to  be 
punished  in  that  way  again ;  but  I  little  knew  what 
was  before  me. 

Before  the  Superior  left  us  she  assisted  me  into 
bed,  and  bade  me  be  very  still  until  the  second  bell 
in  the  morning.  Then,  I  must  rise  and  dress  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and  go  to  her  room.  Quiet- 
ness, she  enjoined  upon  me  as  a  virtue,  while  the 
least  noise,  or  disturbance  of  any  kind,  would  be 
punished  as  a  crime.  She  said  I  must  walk  very 
softly  indeed  along  the  halls,  and  close  the  doors  so 
carefully  that  not  a  sound  could  be  heard.  After 
giving  me  these  first  instructions  in  convent  life, 
she  left  me,  and  I  was  allowed  to  sleep  the  rest  of 
the  night. 

The  next  morning,  I  awpke  at  the  ringing  of  the 
first  bell,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  stir  until  the  second 
I>ell,  when  the  other  little  girls  arose  in  great  haste. 


ALONE  AMID  A  CROWD. 


la 


I  then  dressed  as  quickly  as  possible,  but  not  a  word 
was  spoken — not  a  thought,  and  scarcely  a  look 
exchanged.  I  was  truly  "  alone  amid  a  crowd," 
and  I  felt  the  utter  loneliness  of  my  situation  most 
keenly.  Yet  I  saw  very  clearly  that  there  was  but 
one  course  for  me  to  pursue,  and  that  was,  to  obey 
in  all  things ;  to  have  no  will  of  my  own,  and  thus, 
if  possible,  escape  punishment  But  it  was  hard, 
very  hard  for  me  to  bring  my  mind  to  this.  I  had 
been  the  idolized  child  of  affection  too  long  to  sub- 
mit readily  and  patiently  to  the  privations  I  was 
now  forced  to  endure.  Hitherto  my  will  had  been 
law.  I  had  naturally  an  imperious,  violent  temper, 
which  I  had  never  been  taught  to  govern.  Instead 
of  this,  my  appetites  were  pampered,  my  passions 
indulged,  and  every  desire  gratified  as  far  as  possi- 
ble. Until  that  last  sad  parting,  I  hardly  knew 
what  it  was  to  have  a  request  refused;  and  now^to 
experience  such  a  change  —  such  a  sudden  transi- 
tion from  the  most  liberal  indulgence  to  the  most 
cruel  and  rigorous  self-denial —  Oh,  it  was  a  severe 
trial  to  my  independent  spirit  to  submit  to  it.  Yet, 
submit  I  must,  for  I  had  learned,  even  then,  that  my 
newly  appointed  guardians  were  not  to  be  trifled 
with.  Henceforth,  obedience  must  be  my  motto. 
To  every  command,  however  cruel  and  unjust,  I 
must  yield  a  blind,  passive,  and  unquestioning  obe- 
dience. 

I  dressed  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  hastened 
down  to  the  Superior.  As  I  passed  through  the 
hall,  I  thought  I  would  be  very  careful  to  step  softly. 


u 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


but  in  my  haste  I  forgot  what  she  said  about  clos- 
ing the  door,  and  it  came  together  with  a  loud 
crash.  On  entering  the  room,  I  found  the  Superior 
waiting  for  me ;  in  her  hand  she  held  a  stick  about 
a  foot  long,  to  the  end  of  which  was  attached  nine 
leather  strings,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  inches  long, 
and  about  the  size  of  a  man's  little  finger.  She 
bade  me  come  to  her,  in  a  voice  so  cold  and  stern 
it  sent  a  thrill  of  terror  through  my  frame,  and  I 
trembled  with  the  apprehension  of  some  impending 
evil.  I  had  no  idea  that  she  was  about  to  punish 
me,  for  I  was  not  aware  that  I  had  done  anything 
to  deserve  it ;  but  her  looks  frightened  me,  and  I 
feared,  —  I  know  not  what.  She  took  hold  of  my 
arm,  and  without  saying  a  word,  gave  me  ten  or 
twelve  strokes  over  the  head  and  shoulders  with 
this  miniature  cat-o'-nine-tails.  Truly,  with  her,  it 
was  "  a  word  and  a  blow,  and  the  blow  came  first.*' 
Wherever  the  strings  chanced  to  fall  upon  the  bare 
flesh,  they  raised  the  skin,  as  though  a  hot  iron  had 
been  applied  to  it.  In  some  places  they  took  off 
the  skin  entirely,  and  left  the  flesh  raw,  and  quiver- 
ing with  the  Ringing  pain.  I  could  not  think  at 
first  what  I  had  done  to  deserve  this  severe  punish- 
ment, nor  did  she  condescend  to  enlighten  me.  But 
when  I  began  to  cry,  and  beg  to  go  to  my  father, 
she  sternly  bade  me  stop  crying  at  once,  for  I  could 
not  go  to  my  father.  I  must  stay  there,  she  said, 
and  learn  to  remember  all  her  commands  and  obey 
them.     She  then  taught  me  the  following  verse : 


OBEDIENCE  REQUIRED. 


16 


I  am  a  littlo  nun, 
The  sisters  I  will  mind ; 
When  I  am  pretty  and  loam, 
Then  they  will  use  me  kind. 
I  must  not  bo  so  noisy 
When  I  go  about  the  house, 
I'll  close  the  doors  so  softly. 
They  '11  think  I  am  a  mouse. 

This  verse  I  repeated  until  I  could  say  it  cor- 
rectly. I  was  then  taken  to  the  breakfast-room, 
where  I  was  directed  to  kneel  before  the  crucifbc, 
and  say  my  prayers,  which  I  repeated  after  the 
Superior.  I  was  then  seated  at  the  table,  and 
directed  to  hold  my  head  down,  and  fix  my  eyes 
upon  my  plate.-  I  must  not  look  at  any  one,  or 
gaze  about  the  room ;  but  sit  still,  and  quietly  eat 
what  was  given  me.  I  had  upon  my  plate,  one 
thin  slice  of  wheat  bread,  a  bit  of  potato,  and  a 
very  small  cup  of  milk.  This  was  my  staled 
allowance,  and  I  could  have  no  more,  however  hun- 
gry I  might  be.  The  same  quantity  was  given  me 
every  meal,  when  in  usual  health,  until  I  was  ten 
years  of  age.  On  fast  days,  no  food  whatever  was 
allowed;  and  we  always  fasted  for  three  meals 
before  receiving  the  sacrament.  This  ceremony 
was  observed  every  third  day,  therefore  we  were 
obliged  to  fast  about  one-third  of  the  time.  Yet, 
however  long  the  fast  might  be,  my  allowance  of 
food  was  never  increased. 

After  breakfast  the  Stiperior  took  me  to  Priest 
Dow  for  confession.  He  kept  me  with  him  all 
day,  allowing  me  neither  food  nor  drink ;  nor  did 


*!¥' 


i! 


u 


•f. 


'  ^ 


i 


f 


1(J 


LIFK   IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


he  permit  me  to  break  my  fast  until  four  o'clock 
the  next  day.  I  then  received  what  they  call  the 
sacrament,  for  the  first  time. 

To  prepare  for  this,  I  was  clad  in  a  white  dress 
and  cape,  and  a  white  cap  on  my  head.  I  was 
then  led  to  the  chapel,  and  passing  up  the  aisle, 
knelt  before  the  altar.  Priest  Dow  then  came  and 
stood  before  me,  and  taking  from  a  wine-glass  a 
small  thin  wafer,  he  placed  it  upon  my  tongue,  at 
the  same  time  repeating  some  Latin  words,  which, 
the  Superior  afterwards  told  me,  mean  in  English, 
"  The  body  and  blood  of  Christ."  I  was  taught 
to  believe  that  I  held  in  my  mouth  the  real  body 
and  blood  of  Christ.  I  was  alsb  told  that  if  T 
swallowed  the  wafer  before  it  had  melted  on  my 
tongue,  it  would  choke  me  to  death ;  and  if  I  in- 
dulged an  evil  thought  while  I  held  it  in  my  mouth 
I  should  fall  into  a  pool  of  blood. 


r-  V     !    « 


CHAPTER    III. 


THE   NURSERY. 


While  in  the  White  Nunnery,  I  spent  the  most 
of  my  time  in  the  nursery.  But  the  name  gives 
one  no  idea  of  the  place.  The  freedom  and  care- 
less gayety,  so  characteristic  of  other  nurseries,  had 
no  place  in  this.  No  cheerful  conversation,  no 
juvenile  merriment,  or  pleasureable  excitement  of 
any  kind,  were  ever  allowed.  A  merry  laugh,  on 
the  contrary,  a  witty  jest,  or  a  sly  practical  joke, " 
would  have  been  punished  as  the  most  heinous 
offence.  Here  as  elsewhere  in  the  establishment, 
the  strictest  rules  of  silence  and  obedience  were 
rigidly  enforced.  There  were  twenty  little  girls  in 
the  room  with  me,  but  we  were  never  permitted  to 
speak  to  each  other,  nor  to  any  one  except  a  priest 
or  a  Superior.  When  directly  addressed  by  either 
of  them  we  were  allowed  to  answer;  but  we  might 
never  ask  a  question,  or  make  a  remark,  or  in  any 
way,  either  by  looks,  words,  or  signs,  hold  commu- 
nication with  each  other.  Whenever  we  did  so, 
it  was  at  the  risk  of  being  discovered  and  severely 
punisned.  Yet  this  did  not  repress  the  desire  for 
conversation ;  it  only  made  us  more  cautious,  artful, 

and  deceptive.     The  only  recreation  allowed  us 
2* 


%^' 


<I0 


18 


LIFE  IN  THE  ORET  MUNNER7. 


was  fifteen  minutes'  exercise  in  the  yard  every 
morning  and  evening.  We  might  then  amuse 
ourselves  as  we  chose,  but  were  required  to  spend 
the  whole  time  in  some  kind  of  active  exercise;  if 
one  of  our  number  ventured  to  sit  stiU,  we  were 
all  punished  the  next  day  by  being  kept  in  the 
house. 

It  was  my  business,  while  in  the  nursery,  to  dust 
all  the  furniture  and  the  floor,  with  a  flannel  mop, 
made  and  kept  for  this  purpose.  The  floors  were 
all  painted  and  varnished,  and  very  easily  kept 
clean. 

Two  hours  and  a  half  each  day  we  spent  with  a 
priest,  whom  we  were  taught  to  call  Father  Darity 
(I  do  not  know  as  <  I  spell  this  and  other  names 
correctly,  but  I  give  it  to  the  reader  as  it  sounded 
to  my  ear).  He  appeared  to  take  great  pleasure  in 
learning  us  to  repeat  the  prayers  and  catechism 
required  by  Priest  Dow.  He  also  gave  us  a  vari- 
ety of  instructions  in  other  things,  enjoining  in 
particular  the  most  absolute  obedience  and  perfect 
silence.  He  assured  us  that  if  we  dared  to  diso- 
bey him  in  the  least  particular,  he  should  know  it, 
even  if  he  was  not  present  with  us  at  the  time. 
He  said  he  knew  all  our  thoughts,  words,  and 
actions ;  and  if  we  did  not  obey,  he  should  ^^  eat 
us  with  a  grain  of  saW^ 

I  presume  my  reader  will  smile  at  this,  and 
exclaim, "  How  absurd ! "  Yes,  to  you  it  is  absurd ; 
but  to  the  mind  of  a  child  who  placed  the  utmost 
confidence  in  his  veracity,  it  was  an  evidence  that 


V  ( 


THE  ONE  GREAT  PBINCIPLE. 


19 


he  was  invested  with  supernatural  powers.  For 
myself  I  believed  every  word  he  said,  and  nothing 
would  have  tempted  me  to  disobey  him.  Perfect 
obedience  he  considered  the  highest  attainment, 
and,  to  secure  this,  the  greatest  of  all  virtues,  no 
means  were  thought  too  severe.  We  were  fright- 
ened and  punished  in  every  possible  way. 

But,  though  Father  Darity  acted  on  the  one 
great  principle  with  the  Romanists,  that  the  <^  end 
sanctifies  the  means,"  he  was  in  general  a  much 
kinder  man  than  Priest  Dow.  He  urged  us  on 
with  our  catechism  as  fast  as  possible,  telling  us, 
as  a  motive  to  greater  diligence,  that  the  bishop 
was  soon  to  visit  us,  and  that  we  could  not  be 
admitted  to  his  presence  untU  we  had  our  prayers 
and  catechism  perfectly. 

One  day,  when  we  were  in  the  yard  at  play,  I 
told  one  of  the  little  girls  that  I  did  not  like  to  live 
there ;  that  I  did  not  like  one  of  the  people  in  the 
house ;  that  I  wished  to  return  to  my  father,  and  I 
should  tell  him  so  the  first  time  he  came  to  see 
me. 

"  Then  you  like  to  live  with  your  father  ?  "  said 
she.  I  told  her  I  did,  for  then  I  could  do  as  I 
pleased,  without  the  fear  of  punishment  She  said 
that  she  did  not  like  to  live  there  any  better  than 
I  did.  I  asked  her  why  she  did  not  go  away,  if 
she  disliked  to  stay.  She  replied,  <<  I  should  like 
to  go  away  well  enough,  if  I  had  any  friends  to 
go  to ;  but  my  father  and  mother  are  both  dead, 
and  I  have  no  home  but  this ;  so  you  see  I  must 


20 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


stay  here  if  they  wish  me  to ;  but  there  is  one  con- 
solation ;  if  we  are  good  girls,  and  try  to  do  right, 
they  will  be  kind  to  us."  I  made  no  further 
remark ;  but  the  moment  we  returned  to  the  house 
she  told  the  Superior  what  I  said,  taking  good  care 
not  to  repeat  her  own  expressions,  and  leaving  the 
Superior  to  infer  that  she  had  made  no  reply. 

I  saw  at  once  by  the  stern  look  that  came  over 
the  lady's  face  that  she  was  very  angry;  and  I 
would  gladly  have  recalled  those  few  hasty  words 
had  it  been  in  my  power  to  have  done  so.  She 
immediately  left  the  room,  but  soon  returned  with 
Priest  Dow.  His  countenance  also  indicated  anger, 
as  he  took  hold  of  my  arm  and  led  me  to  a  dark- 
ened room,  in  which  several  candles  were  burning. 

Here  I  saw  three  scenes,  which  I  think  must 
have  been  composed  of  images,  pictures,  and  cur- 
tains. I  do  not  pretend  to  describe  them  correctly, 
I  can  only  tell  how  they  appeared  to  me. 

The  first  was  an  image  of  Christ  on  the  cross, 
with  his  arms  extended  as  we  usually  see  them  in 
pictures.  On  his  right  hand  was  a  representation 
of  heaven,  and  on  the  left,  of  hell.  Heaven  was 
made  to  appear  like  a  bright,  beautiful,  and  glori- 
ous  place.  A  wall  of  pink  color  surrounded  it, 
and  in  the  center  was  a  spring  of  clear  water.  In 
the  midst  of  this  spring  stood  a  tree,  bearing  on 
every  limb  a  lighted  candle,  and  on  the  top,  the 
image  of  Christ  and  a  dove. 

Hell  was  surrounded  by  a  black  wall,  within 
which,  there  was  also  a  spring ;  but  the  water  was 


PRIESTS  THE  ONLY  EVIL  SPIRIT. 


%i 


very  black,  and  beside  it  stood  a  large  black 
image,  with  horns  on  its  head,  a  long  tail,  and  a 
large  cloven  foot.  The  place  where  it  stood  was 
in  deep  shadow,  made  to  resemble,  as  nearly  as 
possible,  clouds  and  darkness.  The  priest  led  me 
up  to  this  fearful  object,  and  placed  me  on  one 
side  of  it,  while  he  stood  on  the  other ;  but  it 
would  turn  away  from  him  towards  me,  roll  up  its 
great  eyes,  open  its  mouth  and  show  its  long  white 
tusks.  The  priest  said  it  turned  from  him, 
because  he  was  a  good  man,  and  I  was  very 
wicked.  He  said  that  it  was  the  devil,  come  up 
from  the  bottomless  pit  to  devour  me ;  and  if  I 
said  such  wicked  words  again,  it  would  carry  me 
off.  I  was  very  much  frightened,  for  I  then 
thought  that  all  he  said  was  true;  that  those 
images,  which  I  now  know  were  strung  on  wires 
were  really  what  they  were  made  to  represent. 

In  fact,  until  I  was  fifteen  years  old,  I  really 
believed  that  the  image  I  then  saw  was  an  evil 
spirit.  But  since  that  time,  I  have  been  made  to 
know  that  the  priests  themselves  are  the  only  evil 
spirits  about  the  place. 

Priest  Dow  then  led  me  back  to  the  nursery,  and 
left  me  with  the  Superior.  But  he  soon  came, 
back,  saying  he  "knew  what  I  was  thinking  about; 
that  I  had  wicked  thoughts  about  him ;  thought  he 
was  a  bad  man,  and  that  I  wished  to  leave  him 
and  go  to  my  father ; "  Now  this  was  all  true, 
and  the  fact  that  he  knew  it,  frightened  me  exceed- 
ingly.    It  was  a  sure  proof  that  what  Father 


i        • 


^^  i: 


h'^ 


22 


LIFE  IN  THE  OREY  NUNNERY. 


Darity  said  was  trae.  But  how  could  I  ever  be 
safe,  if  they  could  thus  read  the  inmost  secrets  of 
my  soul  ?  I  did  dislike  them  all  very  much  indeedt, 
and  I  could  not  help  it.  How  then  could  I  avert 
the  consequences  of  this  deep  aversion  to  convent 
life,  since  it  could  not  be  concealed?  Was  it 
possible  for  me  so  far  to  conquer  myself,  as  to  love 
the  persons  with  whom  I  lived?  How  many 
nights  did  I  lie  awake  pondering  this  question,  and 
resolving  to  make  the  effort.  I  was,  of  course,  too 
young  to  know  that  it  was  only  by  shrewd  guess- 
ing, and  a  general  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
that  he  was  enabled  to  tell  my  thoughts  so  cor- 
rectly. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  for  indulging  these  dreadful 
thoughts,  I  shall  take  you  back  to  the  devil,  and 
give  you  up  to  him."  I  was  frightened  before; 
but  I  have  no  words  to  deseribe  my  feelings  when 
he  again  led  me  back,  and  left  me  beside  the 
image,  saying,  as  he  closed  the  door,  "  If  the  devil 
groans  three  times,  and  the  Lord  does  not  speak, 
you  must  stay  here  until  to-morrow  at  this  time." 
I  trembled  so  that  I  could  hardly  stand,  and  when, 
after  a  few  moments,  a  sound  like  a  groan  fell 
upon  my  ears,  I  shrieked  in  the  extremity  of  ter'' 
ror.*     Then  immediately  I  heard  the  question, 

*  Cioui,  formerly  a  Benedictine  Monk,  giving  an  account  of  his 
imprisonment  at  Borne,  after  his  conversion  says :  — 

"  One  evening,  after  listening  to  a  discourse  filled  with  dark 
images  of  death,  I  returned  to  my  room,  and  found  the  light  set 
upon  the  ground.  I  took  it  up  and  approached  the  table  to  place 
it  there,  but  what  was  my  horror  and  consternation  at  beholding, 


ILLNESS. 


23 


and  it  seemed  to  come  from  the  figure  of  Christ, 
"Will  you  obey?  Will  you  leave  off  sin?"  I 
answered  in  the  affirmative  as  well  as  I  could,  for 
the  convulsive  sobs  that  shook  my  frame  almost 
stopped  my  utterance.  I  now  know  that  when  the 
priest  left  me,  he  placed  himself,  or  an  assistant, 
behind  a  curtain  close  to  the  images,  and  it  was 
his  voice  that  I  heard.  But  I  was  then  too  young 
to  detect  their  treacherous  practices  and  deceitful 
ways. 

On  being  taken  back  to  the  Superior,  I  was 
immediately  attacked  with  severe  illness,  and  had 
fits  all  night  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  see 
that  image  of  the  devil  everywhere.    If  I  closed 

spread  oat  upon  it,  a  whitened  skeleton !  Before  the  reader  can 
comprehend  my  dismay,  it  is  necessary  he  should  reflect  for  a 
moment  on  the  peculiarities  of  childhood,  especially  in  a  Romish 
cbnntry,  where  children  are  seldom  spoken  to  except  in  superstitious 
language,  whether  by  their  parents  or  teachers:  and  domestics 
adopt  the  same  style  to  answer  their  own  purposes,  menacing  their 
disobedient  charges  with  hobgoblins,  phantoms  and  witches.  Such 
images  as  these  make  a  profound  impression  on  tender  minds,  leav- 
ing a  panic  terror  which  the  reasoning  of  after  years  is  often  unable 
entirely  to  efface.  There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  this  pernicious 
habit,  is  the  fruit  of  the  noxious  plant  fostered  in  the  Vatican. 
Bising  generations  must  be  brought  up  in  superstitious  terror,  in 
order  to  render  them  susceptible  to  every  kind  of  absurdity ;  for 
this  terror  is  the  powerful  spring,  employed  by  the  priests  and  friars, 
to  move  at  their  pleasure  families,  cities,  provinces,  nations. 
Although  in  families  of  the  higher  order,  this  method  of  alarming 
infancy  is  much  discountenanced,  nevertheless,  it  is  impossible  but 
that  it  should  in  some  degree  prevail  in  the  nursery.  Nor  was  it 
probable  that  I  should  escape  this  infectious  malady,  having  passed 
my  whole  days  in  an  atmosphere,  charged  more  than  any  other 
with  that  impure  miasma  priest-craft." 


*fc 


■**^ 


■■t'yt. 


24 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


|!|i 


my  eyes,  I  thought  I  could  feel  him  on  my  bed, 
pressing  on  my  breast,  and  he  was  so  heavy  I 
could  scarcely  breathe.  I  was  very  sick,  and  suf- 
fered much  bodily  pain,  but  the  tortures  of  an 
excited  imagination  were  greater  by  far,  and  har- 
der to  bear  than  any  physical  suffering.  For  long 
years  after,  that  image  haunted  my  dreams,  and 
even  now  I  often,  in  sleep,  live  over  again  the 
terrors  of  that  fearful  scene.  I  was  sick  a  long 
time ;  how  long  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  became  so 
weak  I  could  not  raise  myself  in  bed,  and  they 
had  an  apparatus  affixed  to  the  wall  to  raise  me 
with.  For  several  days  I  took  no  nourishment, 
except  a  teaspoonful  of  brandy  and  water  which 
was  given  me  as  often  as  I  could  take  it.  I  con- 
tinued to  have  fits  every  day  for  more  than  two 
years,  nor  did  I  ever  entirely  recover  from  the 
effects  of  that  fright.  Even  now,  though  years 
have  passed  away,  a  little  excitement  or  a  sudden 
shock,  will  f  ometimes  throw  me  into  one  of  those 
fits. 


11! 


I 


if.'  ,,  i 


CHAPTER  IV. 


A  SLAVE  FOR  LIFE. 


During  this  illness  I  was  placed  under  the  care 
of  an  Abbess  whom  they  called  St.  Bridget.  There 
were  many  other  Abbesses  in  the  convent,  but  she 
was  the  principal  one,  and  had  the  care  of  all  the 
clothing.  If  the  others  wished  for  clean  clothes, 
they  were  obliged  to  go  to  her  for  them.  In  that 
way  I  saw  them  all,  but  did  not  learn  their  names. 
They  approached  me  and  looked  at  me,  but  seldom 
spoke.  This  I  thought  very  strange,  but  I  now 
know  they  dared  not  speak.  One  day  an  Abbess 
came  to  my  bed,  and  after  standing  a  few  moments 
with  the  tears  silently  flowing  down  her  cheeks, 
asked  me  if  I  had  a  mother.  I  told  her  I  had  not, 
and  I  began  to  weep  most  bitterly.  I  was  very 
weak,  and  the  question  recalled  to  my  mind  the 
time  when  I  shared  a  father's  love,  and  enjoyed  my 
liberty.  Then,  I  could  go  and  come  as  I  chose,  but 
now,  a  slave  for  life,  I  could  have  no  will  of  my 
own,  I  must  go  at  bidding,  and  come  at  command. 
This,  I  am  well  aware,  may  seem  to  some  extrava- 
gant language ;  but  I  use  the  right  word.  I  was, 
literally, a  slave;  and  of  all  kinds  of  slavery, that 
which  exists  in  a  convent  is  the  worst.    I  say  the 

3 


26 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


1  -!!> 


laorstf  because  the  story  of  wrong  and  outrage 
which  occasionally  finds  its  way  to  the  public  ear, 
►is  not  generally  believed.  You  pity  the  poor  black 
man  who  bends  beneath  the  scourge  of  southern 
bondage,  for  the  tale  comes  to  you  from  those  who 
have  seen  his  tears  and  heard  his  groans.  But  you 
have  no  tears,  no  prayers,  no  eflbrts  for  the  poor 
helpless  nun  who  toils  and  dies  beneath  the  heart- 
less cruelty  of  an  equally  oppressive  task-master. 
No ;  for  her  you  have  no  sympathy,  for  you  do  not 
believe  her  word.  Within  those  precincts  of  cru- 
elty, no  visitor  is  ever  admitted.  No  curious  eye 
may  witness  the  secrets  of  their  prison-house. 
Consequently,  there  is  no  one  to  bear  direct  testi- 
mony to  the  truth  of  her  statements.  Even  now, 
methinks,  I  see  your  haughty  brow  contract,  and 
your  lip  curl  with  scorn,  as  with  supreme  contempt 
you  throw  down  these  pages  and  exclaim,  "'Tis  all 
a  fiction.  Just  got  up  to  make  money.  No  proof 
that  it  is  true."  No  proof  do  you  say  ?  O,  that 
the  strong  arm  of  the  law  would  interpose  in  our 
behalf!  —  that  some  American  Napoleon  would 
come  forth,  and  break  open  those  prison  doors,  and 
drag  forth  to  the  light  of  day  those  hidden  instru- 
ments of  torture!  There  would  then  be  proof 
enough  to  satisfy  the  most  incredulous,  that,  so  far 
from  being  exaggerated,  the  half  has  not  been  told. 
Sons  of  America !  Will  you  not  arise  in  your  might, 
and  demand  that  these  convent  doors  be  opened, 
and  "  the  oppressed  "  allowed  to  "  go  free  "  ?  Or 
if  this  be  denied,  sweep  from  the  fair  earth,  the 


BREAD    KATEN   IN   SECRET. 


27 


Diack-hearted  wretches  who  dare,  in  the  very  face 
of  heaven,  to  commit  such  fearful  outrages  upon 
helpless,  suflfei  ing  humanity  ?  How  long  —  O  how  < 
long  will  you  sutler  these  dens  of  iniquity  to  remain 
unopened  ?  How  long  permit  this  system  of 
priestly  cruelty  to  continue  ? 

But  I  am  wandering  from  my  story.  Would 
that  I  might  forever  wander  from  it —  that  I  might 
at  once  blot  from  memory's  page,  the  fearful  recol- 
lection that  must  follow  me  to  my  grave !  Yet, 
painful  as  it  is  to  rehearse  the  past,  if  I  can  but 
awaken  your  sympathy  for  other  sufferers,  if  I  can 
but  excite  you  to  efforts  for  their  deliverance,  it  is 
all  I  ask.  I  shall  have  my  reward.  But  to  return 
to  my  story. 

The  Abbess  saw  how  deeply  I  was  grieved,  and 
immediately  left  the  room.  St.  Bridget  told  me 
not  to  cry,  for  she  would  be  a  mother  to  me  as  long 
as  I  remained  with  her,  and  she  was  true  to  her 
promise.  Another  sister,  who  sometimes  came  to 
my  room,  I  believe  was  crazy.  She  would  run  up 
to  my  bed,  put  her  hand  on  me,  and  burst  into  a 
loud  and  hearty  laugh.  This  she  repeated  as  often 
as  she  came,  and  I  told  the  Abbess  one  day,  I  did 
wish  that  sister  would  not  come  to  see  me,  for  she 
acted  so  strange,  I  was  afraid  of  her.  She  replied, 
"  do  not  care  for  her ;  she  always  does  just  so,  but 
we  do  not  mind  her ;  you  must  be  careful  what 
you  say,"  she  continued,  "  for  if  you  speak  of  her 
before  any  of  tiie  sisters,  they  may  get  you  into 
trouble." 


(I 


28 


LIFE   IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


I  i: 


When  I  began  to  get  better,  I  had  a  sharp  appe- 
tite for  food,  and  was  hungry  a  great  part  of  the  time. 
One  of  the  sisters  used  to  bring  me  a  piece  of 
bread  concealed  under  her  cape  and  hide  it  under 
my  pillow.  How  she  obtained  it,  I  do  not  know, 
unless  she  saved  it  from  her  own  allowance.  It  was 
very  easy  for  her  to  hide  it  in  this  way,  for  the  nuns 
always  walk  with  one  hand  under  their  cape  and 
the  other  by  the  side.  Truly,  in  this  instance, 
"  bread  eaten  in  secret "  was  "  pleasant."  Of  all 
the  luxuries  I  ever  tasted,  those  stolen  bits  of  bread 
were  the  sweetest. 

During  my  illness  I  thought  a  great  deal  about 
my  father,  and  wondered  why  he  did  not  come  to 
see  me,  as  he  had  promised.  I  used  to  cry  for  him 
in  my  sleep,  and  very  often  awoke  in  tears.  St. 
Bridget  sought  in  every  possible  way  to  make  me 
forget  him,  and  the  priest  would  tell  me  that  I  need 
not  think  so  much  about  him,  for  he  no  longer  cared 
for  me.  He  said  the  devil  had  got  him,  and  I 
would  never  see  him  again.  These  cruel  words, 
so  far  from  making  me  forget,  served  to  awaken  a 
still  greater  desire  to  see  him,  and  increased  my 
grief  because  I  was  denied  the  privilege. 

In  the  room  with  me,  were  six  other  little  girls, 
who  were  all  sick  at  the  same  time,  and  St.  Bridget 
took  care  of  r**  all.  For  two  of  the  little  girls,  I 
felt  the  greatest  sympathy.  They  were  quite  young, 
I  think  not  more  than  three  years  of  age,  and  they 
grieved  continually.  They  made  no  complaint,  did 
not  even  shed  a  tear,  but  they  sobbed  all  the  time, 


r    I 


HARD  FATE. 


29 


whether  asleep  or  awake.  Of  their  history,  I  could 
learn  nothing  at  that  time,  except  the  fact,  that  they 
were  taken  from  their  parents  for  the  good  of  their 
souls.  I  afterwards  overheard  a  conversation  that 
led  me  to  think  that  they  were  heirs  to  a  large 
property,  which,  if  they  were  out  of  the  way,  would 
go  to  the  church.  But  it  is  of  what  I  know,  and 
not  what  I  think,  that  I  have  undertaken  to  write, 
and  I  do  know  that  the  fate  of  those  little  girls  was 
hard  in  the  extreme,  whatever  might  have  been  the 
cause  of  their  being  there.  Poor  little  creatures ! 
No  wonder  their  hearts  were  broken.  Torn  from 
parents  and  friends  while  yet  in  early  childhood  — 
doomed  while  life  is  spared,  to  be  subject  to  the 
will  of  those  who  know  no  mercy  —  who  feel  no 
pity,  but  consider  it  a  religious  duty  to  crush,  and 
destroy  all  the  pure  affections  —  all  the  exquisite 
sensibilities  of  the  human  soul.  Yet  to  them  these 
hapless  babes  must  look  for  all  the  earthly  happi- 
ness they  could  hope  to  enjoy.  They  were  taught 
to  obey  them  in  all  things,  and  consider  them  their 
only  friends  and  protectors.  I  never  saw  them 
after  I  left  that  room,  but  Ihey  did  not  live  long.  I 
was  glad  they  did  not,  for  in  the  cold  grave  their 
sufferings  would  be  over  and  they  would  rest  in 
peace. 

O,  how  little  do  Protestants  know  the  sufferings 
of  a  nun !  and  truly  no  one  can  know  them  except 
by  personal  experience.  One  may  imagine  the 
most  aggravated  form  of  cruelty,  the  most  heart- 
rending agonies,  yet  I  do  believe  the  conception 

3* 


30 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


'.  JR 


of  the  most  active  imagination  would  fall  far  short 
of  the  horrible  reality.  I  do  not  believe  there  was  one 
happy  individual  in  that  convent,  or  that  any  one 
there,  if  I  except  the  lady  Superior,  knew  anything 
of  enjoyment.  Life  with  them  was  a  continual 
round  of  ceaseless  toil  and  bitter  self-denial ;  while 
each  one  had  some  secret  grief  slowly  but  surely 
gnawing  away  the  heart-strings.  I  have  some- 
times seen  the  Abbess  sitting  by  the  bedside  of 
the  sick,  with  her  eyes  closed,  while  the  big  tears 
fell  unchecked  over  her  pale  cheeks.  When  I 
asked  her  why  she  wept,  she  would  shake  her  head, 
b  it  never  speak.  I  now  know  that  she  dare  not 
spealc  for  fear  of  punishment. 

The  abbesses  in  the  various  parts  of  this  con- 
vent are  punished  as  much  as  the  nuns,  if  they  dare 
to  disobey  the  rules  of  the  pri  ^sts ;  and  if  the  least 
of  these  are  broken  in  the  presence  of  any  one  in 
the  house,  they  will  surely  tell  of  it  at  confession. 
In  fact,  they  are  required  to  do  this ;  and  if  it  is 
known  that  one  has  seen  a  rule  broken,  or  a  com- 
mand disobeyed,  without  reporting  it,  a  severe 
punishment  is  sure  to  follow.  Thus  every  individ- 
ual is  a  spy  upon  the  rest ;  and  while  every  failure 
is  visited  with  condign  punishment,  the  one  who 
makes  the  most  reports  is  so  warmly  approved,  that 
poor  human  nature  can  hardly  resist  the  temptation 
to  play  the  traitor.  Friendship  cannot  exist  within 
the  walls  of  a  convent,  for  no  one  can  be  trusted, 
even  with  the  most  trifling  secret.  Whoever  ven- 
tures to  try  it  is  sure  to  be  betrayed. 


FATHER  PARITY. 


31 


I  was  one 


While  I  was  sick  Father  Parity  came  often  to 
see  me,  and  by  his  kindness  succeeded  in  gaining 
my  affections.  I  was  a  great  favorite  with  him ; 
he  always  called  me  his  little  girl,  and  tried  in 
every  way  to  make  me  contented.  He  wished  to 
make  me  say  that  I  was  happy  there,  that  I  liked 
to  live  with  them  as  well  as  with  my  father.  But 
I  could  never  be  persuaded  to  say  this,  for  it  was 
not  the  truth,  and  I  would  not  tell  a  falsehood 
unless  forced  to  do  so.  He  said  I  must  be  a  good 
girl,  and  he  hoped  I  would  sometime  see  better 
times,  but  I  could  never  see  my  father  again,  and 
I  must  not  desire  it.  He  advised  me,  however 
hard  it  might  be,  to  try  and  love  all  who  came 
into  the  nunnery,  even  those  who  were  unkind,  who 
wished  to  injure  me  or  wound  my  feelings.  He 
told  me  how  Jesus  Christ  loved  his  enemies ;  how 
he  died  for  them  a  cruel  death  on  the  cross ;  how, 
amid  his  bitter  agonies,  he  prayed  for  them,  and 
with  his  expiring  breath  he  cried,  "  Father,  forgive 
them,  they  know  not  what  they  do."  "And  now," 
said  he,  "  can  you  do  as  Jesus  Christ  did  ?  He  has 
set  you  an  example,  can  you  not  follow  it  ?  "  "  No, 
sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  cannot  love  those  who  punish  me 
so  cruelly,  so  unjnstly.  I  cannot  love  the  little 
girl  who  reported  wiiat  I  said  in  the  yard,  when 
she  said  as  bad  things  as  I  did."  "  But  you  for- 
get," said  he,  "  that  in  doing  this  she  only  obeyed 
the  rules  of  the  house.  She  only  did  her  duty ;  if 
you  Ijad  done  yours,  you  would  have  reported  her." 
"  I'll  never  do  that,"  I  exclaimed,  iemboldened  by 


tf 


mmtasAsmmmm 


32 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


i^ 


r 


his  kindness.  "  It  is  a  bad  rule,  and — "  "  Hush, 
hush,  child ! "  he  cried,  interrupting  me.  "  Do  you 
know  to  whom  you  are  speaking?  and  do  you 
forget  that  you  are  a  little  girl  ?  Are  you  wiser 
than  your  teachers  ?  I  must  give  you  a  penance 
for  those  naughty  words,  and  you  will  pray  for  a 
better  spirit."  He  said  much  more  to  me,  and  gave 
me  good  advice  that  I  remember  much  bettor  than 
I  followed.  He  enjoined  it  upon  me  to  keep  up 
good  courage,  as  I  would  gain  my  health  faster. 
He  then  bade  me  farewell,  telling  me  not  to  forget 
to  repeat  certain  prayers  as  a  penance  for  my  sin 
in  speaking  so  boldly.  O,  did  he  think  when  he 
talked  to  me  so  kindly,  so  faithfully,  that  it  was 
his  last  opportunity  to  give  me  good  advice  ?  Did 
he  know  that  he  left  me  to  return  no  more  ?  I 
saw  nothing  unusual  in  his  appearance,  and  I  did 
not  suspect  that  it  was  the  last  time  I  should  see 
his  pleasant  face  and  listen  to  his  kindly  voice.  I 
loved  that  man,  and  bitter  were  the  tears  I  shed 
when  I  learned  that  I  should  never  see  him  again. 
The  Abbess  informed  me  that  he  was  sent  away 
for  something  he  had  done,  she  did  not  know  what. 
O  that  something !  I  knew  well  enough  %vhat  it 
was.  He  had  a  kind  heart ;  he  could  feel  for  the 
unfortunate,  ai?d  that,  with  the  Roman  Catholics, 
is  an  <<  unpardonable  sin." 


V , 


CHAPTER    V. 

CEREMONY    OF    CONFIRMATION. 

I  CONTINUED  to  regain  rxiy  health  slowly,  and  the 
Abbess  said  they  would  soon  send  me  back  to  the 
nursery.  I  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  this, 
for  I  had  the  greatest  fear  of  the  Abbess  who  had 
the  charge  of  that  department.  She  was  very  cruel, 
while  St.  Bridget  was  as  kind  as  she  dare  to  be. 
She  knew  full  well  that  if  she  allowed  herself  to 
exhibit  the  least  feeling  of  affection  for  those  chil- 
dren, she  would  be  instantly  removed,  and  some 
one  placed  over  them  who  would  not  give  way  to 
such  weakness.  "We  all  saw  how  it  was,  and 
loved  her  all  the  more  fr»r  the  severity  of  her 
reproofs  when  any  one  was  near.  With  tears, 
therefore,  I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stay  with  her ; 
and  when  the  priest  came  for  me,  she  told  him  that 
she  thought  I  had  better  remain  with  her  till  I 
gained  a  little  more  strength. 

To  this  he  consented,  and  I  was  very  grateful 
indeed  for  the  kindness.  Wishing  in  some  way 
to  express  my  gratitude,  as  soon  as  I  was  able  I 
assisted  in  taking  care  of  the  other  little  girls  as 
much  as  possible.  St.  Bridget,  in  turn,  taught  me 
to  read  a  little,  so  that  I  could  learn  my  prayers 


.^. 


f 


34 


LIFE  IN  THE   GREY  NUNNERY. 


I ' 


when  away  from  her.  She  also  gave  me  a  few 
easy  lessons  in  arithmetic,  and  instructed  me  to 
speak  the  Celt  language.  She  always  spoke  in 
that,  or  the  Frencli,  which  I  could  speak  before, 
having  learned  it  from  the  family  where  I  lived 
after  my  father  gave  up  his  saloon.  They  were 
French  Catholics  and  spoke  no  other  language. 

As  soon  as  I  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  leave 
my  room,  I  was  taken  to  the  chapel  to  be  confirmed. 
Before  they  came  for  me,  the  abbess  told  me  what 
questions  would  be  asked,  and  the  answers  I  should 
be  required  to  give.  She  said  they  would  ask  me 
if  I  wished  to  see  my  father ;  if  I  should  like  to  go 
back  to  the  world,  etc.  To  these  and  similar  ques- 
tions she  said  I  must  give  a  negative  answer. 
"  But,"  said  I,  "  that  will  be  a  falsehood,  and  I 
will  not  say  so  for  any  of  them."  "  Hush,  hush, 
child!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  frightened  look. 
"  You  must  not  talk  so.  From  my  heart  I  pity 
you ;  but  it  will  be  better  for  you  to  answer  as  I 
tell  you,  for  if  you  refuse  they  will  punish  you  till 
you  do.  Remember,"  she  added,  emphatically, 
"  remember  what  I  say :  it  will  be  better  for  you 
to  do  as  I  tell  you."  And  she  made  me  promise 
that  I  would.  "  But  why  do  they  wish  me  to  tell 
a  lie  ?  "  I  asked.  "  They  do  not  wish  you  to  tell  a 
lie,"  she  replied ;  "  they  wish  you  to  do  right,  and 
feel  right ;  to  be  contented  and  willing  to  forget 
the  world."  "  But  I  do  not  wish  to  forget  the 
world,"  I  said.  "  I  am  not  contented,  and  saying 
that  I  am  will  not  make  me  feel  so.    Is  it  right  to 


INSTRUCTION. 


35 


tell  a  lie  ? "  "  It  is  right  for  you  to  obey,"  she 
replied,  with  more  severity  in  her  tone  than  I  ever 
heard  before.  "Do  you  know,"  she  continued, 
"  that  it  is  a  great  sin  for  you  to  talk  so  ?  "  "A 
sin!"  I  exclaimed,  in  astonishment;  "why  is  it  a 
sin  ?  "  "  Because,"  she  replied, "  you  have  no  right 
to  inquire  why  a  command  is  given.  Whatever 
the  church  commands,  we  must  obey,  and  that, 
too,  without  question  or  complaint  If  we  are  not 
willing  to  do  this,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  Bishop  and 
the  priests  to  punish  us  until  we  are  willing.  All 
who  enter  a  convent  renounce  forever  their  own 
will."  "  But  I  did  n't  come  here  myself,"  saM  I ; 
"  my  father  put  me  here  to  stay  a  few  years.  When 
I  am  eighteen  I  shall  go  oat  again."  "  That  does 
not  make  any  difference,"  she  replied.  "  You  are 
here,  and  your  duty  is  obedience.  But  my  dear,'* 
she  continued,  "  I  advise  you  never  again  to  speaE 
of  going  out,  for  it  can  never  be.  By  indulging 
such  hopes  you  are  preparing  yourself  for  a  great 
disappointment.  By  speaking  of  it,  you  will,  I 
assure  you,  get  yourself  into  trouble.  You  may 
not  find  others  so  indulgent  as  I  am ;  therefore,  for 
your  own  sake,  I  hope  you  will  relinquish  all 
idea  of  ever  leaving  the  convent,  and  try  to  be 
contented."  Such  was  the  kind  of  instruction  I 
received  at  the  White  Nunnery.  I  did  not  feel  as 
much  disappointed  at  the  information  that  I  was 
never  to  go  into  the  world  again  as  she  had  ex- 
pected. I  had  felt  for  a  long  time,  almost,  indeed, 
from  my  first  entrance,  that  such  would  be  my 


^'  !  I 


86 


LIFE  IN  THE  OREY  NUNNERY. 


: 

Il 

< 

;  v 

i 

/ 


I 


fate,  and  though  deeply  grieved,  I  was  able  to  con- 
trol my  feelings. 

The  great  day  at  length  came  for  which  the 
Abbess  had  been  so  long  preparing  me.  I  say 
great,  for  in  our  monotonous  life,  the  smallest  cir- 
cumstance seemed  important.  Moreover,  I  was 
assured  that  my  future  happiness  depended  very 
much  upon  the  answers,  I  that  day  gave  to  the 
various  questions  put  to  me.  When  about  to  be 
taken  to  the  chapel,  St.  Bridget  begged  the  priest 
to  be  careful  and  not  frighten  me,  lest  it  should 
bring  on  my  fits  again.  I  was  led  into  the  chapel 
and  made  to  kneel  before  the  altar.  The  bishop 
and  five  priests  were  present,  and  also,  a  man 
whom  I  had  never  seen  before,  but  I  was  told  he 
was  the  Pope's  Nuncio,  and  that  he  came  a  long 
way  to  visit  them.  I  think  this  was  true,  for  they 
all  seemed  to  regard  him  as  a  superior.  I  shall 
never  forget  my  feelings  when  he  asked  me  the 
following  questions,  which  I  answered  as  I  had 
been  directed.  "  Who  do  you  believe  in  ? " 
"  God."  **  How  many  persons  are  there  in  God  ?" 
"Three;  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost" 
«  What  world  have  you  lately  left?"  "  The  world 
of  sin  and  Satan."  "  Do  you  wish  to  go  back  and 
iive  with  your  father?"  "No  Sir."  "Do  you 
think  you  can  live  all  your  life  with  us."  "  I  think 
I  can,  sir."  He  then  said,  "  You  will  not  fare  any 
better  than  you  have  hitherto,  and  perhaps  not  as 
well."  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  I 
could  control  my  feelings  sufficiently  to  answer 


FALSEHOOD. 


n? 


this  last  question.  But  remembering  what  the 
Abbess  had  told  me,  I  suppressed  my  tears,  and 
choked  down  the  rising  sob.  Surely  those  men 
must  have  known  that  I  was  telling  a  falsehood  — 
that  the  profession  I  made  was  not  in  accordance 
with  my  real  sentiments.  For  myself,  I  then  felt, 
and  still  feel  that  the  guilt  was  not  mine.  The 
sin  did  not  rest  with  me. 

The  Bishop  was  then  told  to  hear  my  confes- 
sion, after  which,  a  priest  took  some  ointment  from 
a  small  box,  and  rubbed  it  on  my  forehead,  and 
another  priest  came  with  a  towel  and  wiped  it  off. 
I  was  then  taken  back  to  St.  Bridget,  with  whom 
I  remained,  as  long  as  I  was  in  the  White  Nun- 
nery. 

On  my  tenth  birth-day,  the  Bishop  came  to  the 
Abbess  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  informed 
her  that  I  was  to  take  the  White  Veil  that  day, 
and  immediately  after  the  ceremony,  I  would 
leave  for  the  Grey  Nunnery  iu  Montreal.  He 
desired  her  to  make  all  the  necessary  preparation, 
and  take  her  leave  of  me,  as  she  would  not  see  me 
again.  This  was  sad  news  for  us  both,  for  I  felt 
that  she  was  my  only  friend,  and  I  knew  that  she 
felt  for  me,  the  most  sincere  affection.  She  gave 
me  much  good  advice  in  refei^nce  to  my  future 
conduct,  and  with  tears  exhorted  me  to  be  kind, 
cheerful,  and  obedient.  I  was  going  to  a  new 
place,  she  said,  and  if  I  was  a  good  girl,  and 
sought  to  please  my  superiors,  I  would  find  some 
one  to  be  kind  to  me.     She  advised  me  to  try  and 

4 


.j:^.:^.z:i 


38 


LIFE  IN   THE  GBEY  NUNNERY. 


{\ 


appear  contented  in  whatever  situation  I  might  be 
placed,  and  above  all  other  considerations,  never 
disobey  the  least  command.  "  Obedience,"  she 
again  repeated, ''  is  the  rule  in  all  convents,  and  it 
will  be  better  for  you  to  obey  at  once,  and  cheerfully, 
and  willingly  comply  with  every  request,  than  to 
incur  displeasure  and  perhaps  punishment,  by  any 
appearance  of  reluctance  or  hesitation.  If  there 
is  any  one  thing  that  you  dislike  to  do,  be  sure 
that  you  do  not  betray  your  feelings,  for  if  you  do, 
that  will  be  the  very  thing  they  will  require  of 
you ;  and  I  assure  you,  if  you  once  become  the 
object  of  suspicion  or  dislike,  your  condition  will 
be  anything  but  agreeable.  You  will  be  marked 
and  watched,  and  required  to  do  many  unpleasant 
things,  to  say  the  least.  Therefore  I  hope  you 
will  perform  all  your  duties  with  a  cheerful  and 
willing  spirit."  Bitterly  did  I  grieve  at  the  thought 
of  being  separated  from  the  only  being  on  earth 
who  seemed  to  care  for  me.  In  the  anguish  of 
the  moment,  1  wished  I  might  die.  St.  Bridget 
reproved  me,  saying  encouragingly  that  death  was 
the  coward's  refuge,  sought  only  by  those  who 
had  not  the  resolution  to  meet,  endure,  or  over- 
come the  trials  of  life.  She  exhorted  me  to 
courage,  perseverance  and  self  denial,  saying  that 
if  I  fought  life's  battle  bravely,  I  would  have  my 
reward. 

She  changed  all  my  clothes,  and  assisted  me  to 
put  on  a  white  dress  and  cape,  and  a  white  cap 
and  veil.     She  then  gave  me  a  card  of  good  beha- 


LITTLE  IBISH  GIBLS. 


39 


vior,  embraced  me  for  the  last  time,  and  led  me 
out  to  the  Bishop,  who  was  waiting  to  conduct 
me  to  the  chapel  where  the  cerenn.ony  was  to  be 
performed. 

I  there  met  ten  other  little  girls,  who,  like  myself, 
were  compelled  to  take  upon  themselves  vows  they 
did  not  understand,  and  thus,  by  an  apparently 
voluntary  act,  consign  themselves  to  slavery  for 
life.  They  were  all  strangers  to  me,  sent  here,  as 
I  afterwards  learned,  from  some  nunnery  in  Ire- 
land, where  they  had  friends  who  were  too  solici- 
tous for  their  welfare.  The  priests  do  not  wish 
the  nuns  to  see  friends  from  the  world,  and  they 
will  frame  almost  any  plausible  excuse  to  prevent 
it.  But  when  the  friends  become  too  urgent,  as 
they  sometimes  do,  and  their  inventive  powers  are 
taxed  too  severely,  or  if  the  task  of  furnishing  so 
many  excuses  become  too  irksome,  the  poor  hap- 
less victims  are  sent  off  to  some  other  nunnery, 
and  the  friends  are  told  that  they  were  not  con- 
tented, and  wished  to  go  to  some  other  place,  and 
that  they,  generous  creatures  that  they  are,  have 
at  length,  after  much  solicitation,  kindly  consented 
to  their  removal.  And  this  too,  when  they  know 
that  these  very  girls  are  grieving  their  tlives  away, 
for  a  sight  of  those  dear  friends,  who,  they  are  con- 
fidently assured,  are  either  dead,  or  have  entirely 
forgotten  them !  Can  the  world  of  woe  itself  fur- 
nish deceit  of  a  darker  dye  ? 

The  Bishop  led  me  up  to  the  altar,  and  put  a 
lighted  candle  into  my  hand.    He  then  went  down 


^  a 


40 


LIFE   IN  THE   GREY  NUNNERY. 


.^1 


'li 


under  the  altar,  on  which  a  lighted  candle  was 
placed,  and  soon  returned  followed  by  two  little 
boys  whom  they  called  apostles.  They  held,  each, 
a  lighted  torch  with  which  they  proceeded  to  light 
two  more  candles.  On  a  table  near  the  altar, 
stood  a  coffin,  and  soon  two  priests  entered,  bear- 
ing another  coffin,  which  they  placed  beside  the 
other.  A  white  cloth  was  spread  over  them,  and 
burning  candles  placed  at  the  head  and  foot. 
These  movements  frightened  me  exceedingly,  for  I 
thought  they  were  going  to  kill  me. 

Forgetting  in  my  terror  that  I  was  not  allowed  to 
speak,  I  asked  the  Bishop  if  he  was  going  to  kill 
me.  "  Kill  you ! "  he  exclaimed, "  O  no ;  don't  be 
frightened ;  I  shall  pot  hurt  you  in  the  least.  But 
it  is  our  custom,  when  a  nun  takes  the  veil,  to  lay 
her  in  a  coffin  to  show  that  she  is  dead  to  the 
world.  Did  not  St.  Bridget  tell  you  this  ?  "  I  told 
him  she  did  not,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  tell  him  that 
I  supposed  she  felt  so  bad  when  she  found  I  must 
leave  her,  that  she  entirely  forgot  it.  He  then  asked 
very  pleasantly,  which  of  the  two  coffins  I  liked  the 
best,  saying  I  could  have  my  choice.  I  replied, "  I 
have  no  choice."  This  was  true,  for  although  he 
assured  me  to  the  contrary,  I  still  believed  he  was 
about  to  kill  me,  and  I  cared  very  little  about  my 
coffin.  They  were  both  large  enough  for  a  grown 
person,  and  beautifully  finished,  with  a  large  silver 
plate  on  the  lid.  The  Bishop  took  me  up  in  his 
arms,  and  laid  me  in  one  of  them,  and  bade  me 
close  my  eyes. 


A   MEMENTO   OF   DEATH. 


41 


I  lay  in  that  coffin  a  long  time,  as  it  seemed  to 
me,  without  the  least  motion.  I  was  so  much 
alarmed,  I  felt  as  though  I  could  not  even  lift  a 
finger.  Meantime  the  Bishop  and  priests  read  alter- 
nately from  a  book,  but  in  a  language  I  could  not 
understand.  Occasionally  they  would  come  and 
feel  my  hands  and  feet,  and  say  to  each  other, "  She 
is  very  cold."  I  believe  they  were  afraid  I  should 
die  in  their  hands,  of  fear.  "When  at  last  they  took 
me  up,  they  told  me  that  I  would  carry  that  coffin 
to  Montreal  with  me — that  I  would  be  laid  in  it 
when  robed  for  the  jg^rave  —  and  that  my  bones 
would  moulder  to  J  \  i  it.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  impression  tht  y.  vvords  made  on  my  mind. 
There  was  something  so  horrible  in  the  thought  of 
carrying  a  coffin  about  with  me  all  my  life,  con- 
stantly reminding  me  of  the  shortness  of  time,  and 
the  sure  approach  of  death,  I  could  not  endure  it. 
Gladly  would  I  have  left  it,  costly  and  elegant  as  it 
was,  choosing  rather  to  run  the  risk  of  being  buried 
without  one,  but  this  was  not  allowed.  I  could 
have  no  choice  in  the  matter. 

These  ceremonies  concluded,  I  was  taken  to  a 
small  room,  and  a  woman  assisted  me  to  change 
my  clothes  again,  and  put  on  the  Grey  Nunnery 
suit.  This  consisted  of  a  grey  dress  and  shoes, 
and  a  black  cap.  Each  nunnery  has  a  peculiar 
dress  which  every  nun  is  required  to  wear.  Thus, 
on  meeting  one  of  them,  it  is  very  easy  to  teli  what 
establishment  she  belongs  to,  and  a  run-awfty  is 
easily  detected.     On  leaving  the  chapel,  I  was 


lUMuMMHiMM 


1.;-  V 


mi 


42 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


taken  to  the  steamboat,  with  the  other  ten  girls, 
accompanied  by  a  pri  t.  Our  coffins  were  packed 
in  cotton,  and  placed  on  the  boat  with  us.  On  our 
arrival  at  Montreal,  we  found  a  priest  and  two  nuns 
waiting  for  us  to  conduct  us  to  the  nunnery. 


■I    r 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


The  Grey  Nunnery  is  situated  on  St.  Paul 
Street,  Montreal.  It  is  four  stories  high,  besides 
the  basement.  It  occupies  a  large  space  of  ground, 
I  do  not  know  how  much,  but  it  is  a  very  extensive 
building.  The  roof  is  covered  with  tin,  with  a 
railing  around  it,  finished  at  the  top  with  sharp 
points  that  look  like  silver,  about  a  foot  in  length, 
and  three  feet  apart.  Over  the  front  door  there  is 
a  porch  covered  with  a  profusion  of  climbing 
plants,  which  give  it  a  beautiful  appearance.  The 
building  stands  in  a  largo  yard,  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  a  high  fence,  so  high  indeed,  that  people 
who  pass  along  the  street  can  see  no  part  of  the 
nunnery  except  the  silver  points  on  the  roof.  The 
top  of  this  fence  is  also  finished  with  long  iron 
spikes.  Every  thing  around  the  building  seems 
expressly  arranged  to  keep  the  inmates  in,  and 
intruders  out.  In  fact  it  would  be  nearly  impossi- 
ble for  any  one  to  gain  a  forcible  or  clandestine 
admittance  to  any  part  of  the  establishment. 
There  are  several  gates  in  the  fence,  how  many  I 
do  not  know,  but  the  front  gate  opens  on  St.  Ann 
Street.    Over  each  of  the  gates  hangs  a  bell,  con- 


mmmtim 


44 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


nected  with  the  bells  in  the  rooms  of  the  Superior 
and  Abbesses,  which  ring  whenever  the  gate  is 
opened.  There  is  alvi  s  a  guard  of  two  men  at 
each  gate,  who  walk  u,^  ana  down  with  guns  upon 
their  shoulders.  While  attempting  to  give  a  brief 
description  of  this  building,  I  may  as  well  say  that 
it  is  constructed  with  non-conductors  between  the 
walls,  so  that  the  ringing  of  a  bell,  or  the  loudest 
shriek,  could  not  be  heard  from  one  room  to  the 
other.  The  reader  will  p^'^ase  bear  this  in  mind,  as 
the  reason  for  the  precaution  will  appear  in  the 
course  of  my  narrative. 

The  priest,  who  met  us  as  we  left  the  boat,  con- 
ducted 118  to  the  front  door  and  rang  the  bell. 
Soon  a  lady  appeared,  who  drew  a  slide  in  the 
middle  of  the  door,  exposing  one  pane  of  glass. 
Through  this  she  looke^,  to  see  who  was  there,  and 
when  satisfied  on  this  point,  opened  the  door. 
Here  let  me  remark,  that  since  I  left  the  nunnery, 
I  have  heard  of  another  class  of  people  who  find  it 
convenient  to  have  a  slide  in  their  door ;  and  if  I 
am  not  very  much  mistaken,  the  character  of  the 
two  houses,  or  rather  the  people  who  live  in  them, 
are  very  much  alike,  whether  they  are  nunnenes  of 
private  families,  Catholics  or  Protestants.  Honest 
people  have  no  need  of  a  slide  in  the  door,  and 
wb'.e  there  is  so  much  precaution,  may  we  not 
suppose  that  something  behind  the  curtain  impera- 
tively calls  for  it  ?  It  is  an  old  adage,  but  true  not- 
withstanding, that  "  where  there  is  concealment, 
there  must  be  something  wrong." 


BLACK  CLOISTERS. 


46^" 


In  the  hall  opposite  the  front  door  were  two 
other  doors,  with  a  ccyauderable  space  .between 
them.  The  right,  hand  09or  was  opened  by  the 
door-tender,  and  we  ejitered  a  room  furnished  in 
the  plainest -manner,  but  every  thing  was  neat,  and 
in  perfect  order.  Instead  of  chairs,  on  two  sides  of 
the  room  a  long  bench  wa»«|Gistened  to  the  sides  of 
the  house.  They  wfere  nei^er  painted,  nor  cush- 
ioned, but  were  ver^  white,  $8  was  also  the  floor,  on 
which  there  was  no  carpet.  Beside  the  door  stood 
a  basin  of  holy  water,  and  directly  opposite,  an 
image  of  the  Saviour  extended  on  the  cross  which 
they  call  a  crucifix.  v^^ 

Here  we  were  left  a  few  momenti,||^^  the 
door-keeper  came  back,  and  asked  us  if  weH^uld 
like  to  see  the  Black  Cloisters ;  and  if  so,  to  follow 
her.  She  led  us  back  into  the  hall,  and  in  the  space 
between  the  two  doors  that  I  mentioned,  she 
unlocked  a  bar,  and  pulling  it  down,  touched  a 
spring,  and  immediately  a  little  square  door  slid 
back  into  the  ceiling.  Across  this  door,  or  window 
or  whatever  they  called  it,  were  strong  bars  of  iron 
about  one  inch  apart  Through  this  aperture  we 
were  cdlowed  to  look,  and  a  sad  sight  met  my  eyes. 
As  many  as  fifty  disconsolate  looking  ladies  were 
sitting  there,  who  were  called  Black  Nuns,  because 
they  were  preparing  to  take  the  Black  Veil.  They 
were  all  dressed  in  black,  a  black  cap  on  the  head, 
and  a  white  bandage  drawn  across  the  forehead,  to 
which  another  was  attached,  that  passed  under  the 
chin.    These  bandages  they  always  wore,  and  were 


tmimmmikmmmmmBSSggi 


46 


LIFE  m  THE  GRET  NUNNERY. 


not  allowed  to  lay  aside.  They  sat,  each  one  with 
a  book  in  her  hand,  motionless  as  so  many  statues. 
Not  a  finger  did  they  move,  not  an  eye  was  raised, 
but  they  sat  gazing  upon  the  page  before  them  as 
intently  as  though  life  itself  depended  upon  it. 
Our  guide  informed  us  that  they  were  studying  the 
*  Black  Book  preparatory  to  taking  the  Black  Veil 
and  entering  the  Cloister.  This  book  war.  quite  a 
curiosity.  It  was  very  large,  with  a  white  cover, 
and  around  the  edge  a  black  border  about  an  inch 
w'de. 


i(  I 


(!• 


.   i   i 


*  "  The  Black  Book,  or  Praxis  Sacrce  Eomanas  Inquisitumia,  is 
always  the  model  for  that  which  is  to  succeed  it.  This  book  is  a 
large  manascript  volume,  in  folio,  and  is  carefully  preserved  bj  the 
head  of  the  Inquisition.  It  is  called  Libro  Nero,  the  Black  Book, 
because  it  has  a  cover  of  that  color ;  or,  as  an  inquisitor  explained 
to  me,  Libro  Necro,  which,  in  the  Greek  language,  signifies  "  The 
book  of  the  dead." 

In  this  book  is  the  criminal  code,  with  all  the  punishments  for 
every  supposed  crime ;  also  the  mode  of  conducting  the  trial,  so  as 
to  elicit  the  guilt  of  the  accused ;  and  the  manner  of  receiving  accu- 
sations. I  had  this  book  in  my  hand  on  one  occasion,  and  read 
therein  the  proceedings  relative  to  my  own  case ;  and  I  moreover  saw 
in  this  same  volume  some  very  astounding  particulars ;  for  example, 
in  the  list  of  punishments  I  read  concerning  the  bit,  or  as  it  is  called 
by  us  the  mordacchia,  which  is  a  very  simple  contrivance  to  confine  the 
tongue,  and  compress  it  between  two  cylinders  composed  of  iron  and 
wood  and  furnished  with  spikes.  This  horrible  instrument  not  only 
wounds  the^^gne  and  occasions  excessive  pain,  but  also,  from  the 
swelling  it  produces,  frequently  places  the  sufierer  in  danger  of 
suffocation.  This  torture  is  generally  had  recourse  to  in  cases 
considered  as  blasphemy  against  God,  the  Virgin,  the  Saints,  or  the 
Pope.  So  that  according  to  the  Inquisition,  it  is.as  great  a  crime  to 
speak  disparagingly  of  a  pope,  who  may  be  a  very  detestable 
character,  as  to  blaspheme  the  holy  name  of  God.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  this  torture  has  been  in  use  till  the  present  period ;  and,  to  say 


THE  SEPARATION. 


47 


m^ 


Our  curiosity  being  satisfied  as  far  as  possible, 
we  returned  to  the  side  room,  where  we  waited 
long  ior.the  lady  Superior.  When  at  length  she 
came,  she  turned  to  me  first,  as  I  sat  next  the  door, 
and  asked  me  if  I  had  anything  to  show  in  proof 
of  my  former  good  character.  I  gave  her  my  card; 
she  looked  at  it,  and  led  me  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room.  The  same  question  was  asked  of  every 
girl  in  turn,  when  it  was  found  that  only  four 
beside  myself  had  cards  of  good  behavior.  The 
other  six  presented  cards  which  she  said  were  for 
bad  behavior.  They  were  all  placed  together  on 
the  other  side  of  the  room ;  and  as  the  Superior 
was  about  to  lead  them  away,  one  of  them  came 
towards  us  saying  that  she  did  not  wish  to  stay 
with  those  ^Is,  she  would  rather  go  with  us. 
The  Superior  drew  her  back,  and  replied,  <*  No^ 
child ;  you  cannot  go  with  those  good  girls ;  you 
would  soon  leam  them  some  of  your  naughty 
ways.  If  you  will  do  wrong,  you  must  take  the 
consequences."  Then,  seeing  that  the  child  really 
felt  very  bad,  she  said,  in  a  kinder  tone,  "  When 
you  learn  to  do  right,  you  shall  be  allowed  to  go 

nothing  of  the  exhibitions  of  this  nature  which  were  displayed  in 
Komanga,  in  the  time  of  Gregory  1 6th.,  by  the  Inquis^  Ancarani 
— in  Umbria  by  Stefanelii,  Saiva,  and  others,  we  ma^%dmire  the 
inquisitorial  zeal  of  Cardinal  Feretti.the  cousin  of  hia  present  holi- 
ness, who  condescended  more  than  once  to  employ  these  means 
when  he  was  bishop  of  Rieti  and  Fermo."  Dealings  with  the 
lnquisition,by  the  Rev.  Giacinto  Achilli  D.  D.,  late  Prior  and  Visitor 
of  the  Dominican  Order,  ilead  Professor  of  Theology  and  Vicar  of 
the  master  of  the  Sacred  Appstolic  Palace,  etc.,  etc.,  page  81. 


..jyii    liM 


r^ 


I 


h  i 


!  t 


48 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


with  good  girls,  but  not  before."  T  pitied  the  poor 
child,  and  for  a  long  time  I  hoped  to  see  her  come 
to  our  room ;  but  she  never  came.  They  were  all 
led  off  together,  and  that  was  the  last  I  ever  saw 
of  any  of  them. 

I  was  taken,  with  the  other  four  girls,  to  a  room 
on  the  second  floor.  Here  we  found  five  cribs,  one 
for  each  of  us,  in  which  we  slept.  Our  food  was 
brought  to  us  regularly,  consisting  of  one  thin  slice 
of  fine  wheat  bread  for  each  of  us,  and  a  small 
cup  of  milk.  It  was  only  in  the  morning,  however, 
that  the  milk  was  allowed  us,  and  for  dinner  and 
supper  we  had  a  slice  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  water. 
This  was  not  half  enough  to  satisfy  our  hunger ; 
but  we  could  have  no  more.  For  myself  I  can  say 
that  I  was  hungry  all  the  time,  and  I  know  the 
others  were  also ;  but  we  could  not  say  so  to  each 
other.  We  were  in  that  room  together  five  weeks, 
yet  not  one  word  passed  between  us.  We  did  some- 
times smile,  or  shake  our  heads,  or  make  some  little 
sign,  though  even  this  was  prohibited,  but  we  never 
ventured  to  speak.  We  were  forbidden  to  do  so, 
on  pain  of  severe  punishment ;  and  I  believe  we 
were  watched  all  the  time,  and  kept  there,  for  a 
trial  of  our  obedience.  We  were  employed  in 
peeling  g  soft  kind  of  wood  for  beds,  and  filling 
the  ticks  with  it.  We  were  directed  to  make  our 
own  beds,  keep  our  room  in  the  most  perfect  order, 
and  all  our  work  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  The 
Superior  came  up  every  morning  to  see  that  we 
were  thoroughly  washed,  and  every  Saturday  she 


TRIA.L  OF  OBEDIENCE. 


49 


was  very  particular  to  have  our  clothes  and  bed 
linen  all  changed.  As  every  convenience  was 
provided  in  our  rooms  or  the  closets  adjoining,  we 
were  not  obliged  to  go  out  for  anything,  and  for 
five  weeks  I  did  not  go  out  of  that  room. 

My  bed  was  then  brought  from  Quebec,  and  we 
were  moved  to  a  large  square  room,  with  four  beds 
in  it,  only  two  of  which  were  occupied.  We  were 
then  sent  to  the  kitchen,  where  in  future,  we  were 
to  be  employed  in  cleaning  sauce,  scouring  knives 
and  forks,  and  such  work  as  we  were  able  to  do. 
As  we  g.ew  older,  our  tasks  were  increased  with 
our  strength.  I  had  no  regular  empfoyment,  but 
was  called  upon  to  do  any  of  the  drudgery  that 
was  to  be  done  about  the  house.  The  Superior 
came  to  the  kitchen  every  morning  after  prayers 
and  told  us  what  to  do  through  the  day.  Then,  in 
her  presence  we  were  allowed  five  minutes  con- 
versation, a  priest  also  being  present.  For  the  rest 
of  the  day  we  kept  a  profound  silence,  not  a  word 
being  spoken  by  any  of  us  unless  in  answer  to  a 
question  from  some  of  our  superiors. 

In  one  part  of  the  building  there  was  a  school 
for  young  ladies,  who  were  instructed  in  the  various 
branches  of  education  usually  taught  in  Catholic 
schools.  Many  of  the  scholars  boarded  at  the 
nunnery,  and  all  the  cooking  and  washing  was  done 
in  the  kitchen.  We  also  did  the  cooking  for  the 
saloons  in  Montreal.  If  this  did  not  keep  us  em- 
ployed, there  were  corn  brooms  and  brushes  to 
make,  and  thus  every  moment  was  fully  occupied. 

5 


i 


60 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERr. 


Not  a  moment  of  leisure,  no  rest,  no  recreation, 
but  hard  labor,  and  the  still  more  laborious  religious 
exercises,  filled  up  the  time.  It  was  sometimes 
very  annoying  to  me  to  devote  so  many  hours  to 
mere  external  forms;  for  I  felt,  even  when  very 
young,  that  they  were  of  little  worth.  But  it  was 
a  severe  trial  to  our  temper  to  make  so  many  pies, 
cakes,  puddings,  and  all  kinds  of  rich  food,  which 
we  were  never  allowed  to  taste.  The  priests,  supe- 
riors, and  the  scholars  had  every  luxury  they  de- 
sired ;  but  the  nuns,  who  prepared  all  their  choice 
dainties,  were  never  permitted  to  taste  anything 
but  bread  and  water.  I  am  well  aware  that  this 
statement  will  seem  incredible,  and  that  many  will 
doubt  the  truth  of  it ;  but  I  repeat  it :  the  nuns  in 
the  Grey  Nunnery,  or  at  least  those  in  the  kitchen 
with  me,  were  allowed  no  food  except  bread  and 
water,  or,  in  case  of  illness,  water  grueL 


I 


CHAPTER    VII. 


orphan's  home. 


The  Grey  Nunnery  is  said  to  be  an  orphan's 
home,  and  no  effort  is  spared  to  make  visitors 
believe  that  this  is  the  real  character  of  the  house. 
I  suppose  it  is  true  that  one  part  of  it  is  devoted 
to  this  purpose ;  at  least  my  Superior  informed  me 
that  many  children  were  kept  there ;  and  to  those 
apartments  visitors  are  freely  admitted,  but  never 
to  that  part  occupied  by  the  nuns.  We  were 
never  allowed  to  con  municate  with  people  from 
the  world,  nor  with  the  children.  In  fact,  during 
all  the  time  I  was  there,  I  never  saw  one  of  them, 
nor  did  I  ever  enter  the  rooms  where  they  were. 

In  the  ladies'  school  there  were  three  hundred 
scholars,  and  in  our  part  of  the  house  two  hundred 
and  fifty  nuns,  besides  the  children  who  belonged 
to  the  nunnery.  Add  to  these  the  abbesses,  supe- 
riors, priests,  and  bishop,  and  one  will  readily 
imagine  that  the  work  for  suqh  a  family  was  no 
trifling  affair. 

In  this  nunnery  the  Bishop  was  the  highest 
authority,  and  everything  was  under  his  direction, 
unless  the  Pope's  Nuncio,  or  some  other  high 
church  functionary  was  present    I  sometimes  saw 


,,f«^^"*-:- 


^r 


52 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


y  f 


one  whom  they  called  the  Archbishop,  who  was 
treated  with  great  deference  by  the  priests,  and 
even  by  the  Bishop  himself. 

The  Holy  Mother,  or  Lady  Superior,  has  power 
over  all  who  have  taken  or  are  preparing  to  take 
the  veil.  Under  her  other  superiors  or  abbesses  are 
appointed  over  the  various  departments,  whose 
duty  it  is  to  look  after  the  nuns  and  novices,  and 
the  children  in  training  for  nuns.  The  most  rigid 
espionage  is  kept  up  throughout  the  whole  estab- 
lishment ;  and  if  any  of  these  superiors  or  abbesses 
fail  to  do  the  duty  assigned  them,  they  are  more 
severely  punished  than  the  nuns.  Whenever  the 
Lady  Superior  is  absent  the  punishments  are  as- 
signed by  one  of  the  priests.  Of  these  there 
were  a  large  number  in  the  nunnery ;  and  when- 
ever we  chanced  to  meet  one  of  them,  as  we  some- 
times did  when  going  about  the  house,  or  when- 
ever one  of  them  entered  the  kitchen,  we  must 
immediately  fall  upon  our  knees.  No  matter  what 
we  were  doing,  however  busily  employed,  or  however 
inconvenient  it  might  be,  every  thing  must  be  left 
or  set  aside,  that  this  senseless  ceremony  might  be 
performed.  The  priest  must  be  honored,  and  woe 
to  the  poor  nun  who  failed  to  move  with  sufficient 
alacrity ;  no  punishment  short  of  death  itself  was 
thought  too  severe  for  such  criminal  neglect. 
Sometimes  it  would  happen  that  I  would  be 
engaged  in  some  employment  with  my  back  to 
Ihe  door,  and  not  observe  the  entrance  of  a  priest 
until  the  general  movement  around    me  would 


EAST  LIFE   OF  PRIESTS  AND  SUPERIORS.        53 


arrest  my  attention;  then  I  would  hasten  to 
"  make  my  manners,"  as  the  ceremony  was  called ; 
but  all  too  late.  I  had  been  remiss  in  duty,  and 
no  excuse  would  avail,  no  apology  be  accepted,  no 
forgiveness  granted ;  the  dreaded  punishment  must 
come. 

While  the  nuns  are  thus  severely  treated,  the 
priests,  and  the  Holy  Mother  live  a  very  easy  Ufe, 
and  have  all  the  privileges  they  wish.  So  far  as 
the  things  of  this  world  are  concerned,  they  seem 
to  enjoy  themselves  very  well.  But  I  have  some* 
times  wondered  if  conscience  did  not  give  them 
occasionally,  an  unpleasant  twinge;  and  from 
some  things  I  have  seen,  I  believe,  that  with  many 
of  them,  this  is  the  fact.  They  may  try  to  put 
far  from  them  all  thoughts  of  a  judgment  to  come, 
yet  I  do  believe  that  their  slumbers  are  sometimes 
disturbed  by  fearful  forebodings  of  a  just  retribu- 
tion which  may,  after  all,  be  in  store  for  them. 
But  whatever  trouble  of  mind  they  may  have, 
they  do  not  allow  it  to  interfere  with  their  worldly 
pleasures,  and  expensive  luxuries.  They  have 
money  enough,  go  when,  and  where  they  please, 
eat  the  richest  food  and  drink  the  choicest  wines. 
In  short,  if  sensual  enjoyment  was  the  chief  end 
of  their  existence,  I  do  not  know  how  they  could 
act  otherwise.  The  Abbesses  are  sometimes 
allowed  to  go  out,  but  not  unless  they  have  a 
pass  from  one  of  the  priests,  and  if,  at  any  time, 
they  have  reason  to  suspect  that  some  one  is  dis- 
5* 


54 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


contented,  they  will  not  allow  any  one  to  go  out 
of  the  building  without  a  careful  attendant. 

My  Superior  here,  as  in  the  White  Nunnery, 
was  very  kind  to  me.  I  sometimes  feared  she 
would  share  the  fate  of  Father  Darity,  for  she  had 
a  kind  heart,  and  was  guilty  of  many  benevolent 
acts,  which,  if  known,  would  have  subjected  her 
#  to  very  ^ious  consequences.     I  became  so  much 

attached  to  her,  that  my  fears  for  her  were  always 
alarmed  when  she  called  me  her  good  little  girl,  or 
used  any  such  endearing  expression.  The  sequel 
of  my  story  will  show  that  my  fears  were  not 
unfounded;  but  let  me  not  anticipate.  Sorrows 
will  thicken  fast  enough,  if  we  do  not  hasten  them. 

I  lived  with  this  Superior  one  year  before  I  was 
consecrated,  and  it  was,  comparatively,  a  happy 
season.  I  was  never  punished  unless  it  was  to 
save  me  from  less  merciful  hands;  and  then  I 
would  be  shut  up  in  a  closet,  or  some  such  simple 
thing.  The  other  four  girls  who  occupied  the 
room  with  me,  were  consecrated  at  the  same  time. 

The  Bishop  came  to  our  room  early  one  morn- 
ing, and  took  us  to  the  chapel.  At  the  door  we 
were  made  to  kneel,  and  then  crawl  on  our  hands 
and  knees  to  the  altar,  wh^^re  sat  a  man,  who  we 
were  told,  was  the  Archbishop.  Two  little  boys 
came  up  from  under  the  altar,  with  the  vesper  lamp 
to  burn  incense.  I  suppose  they  were  young 
Apostles,  for  they  looked  very  much  like  those  we 
had  seen  at  the  White  Nunnery,  and  were  dressed 


CEREMONY  OF   CONSECRATION. 


65 


in  the  same  manner.  The  Bishop  turned  his  back, 
and  they  threw  incense  on  his  head  and  shoulders, 
until  he  was  surrounded  by  a  cloud  of  smoke.  He 
bowed  his  head,  smote  upon  his  breast,  and 
repeated  something  in  latin,  or  some  other  lan- 
guage, that  v/e  did  not  understand.  We  were 
told  to  follow  his  example,  and  did  so,  as  nearly 
as  possible.  This  ceremony  over,  the  Bfthop  told 
us  to  go  up  on  to  the  altar  on  our  knees,  and  when 
this  feat  was  performed  to  his  satisfaction,  he 
placed  a  crown  of  thorns  upon  each  of  our  heads 
These  crowns  were  made  of  bands  of  i^ome  firm 
material,  which  passed  over  thi.  head  and  around 
the  forehead.  On  the  inside  thorns  were  fastened, 
with  the  points  downward,  so  that  a  very  slight 
pressure  would  cause  them  to  pierce  the  skin. 
This  I  suppose  is  intended  to  imitate  the  crown  of 
thorns  which  our  Saviour  wore  upon  the  cross. 
But  what  will  it  avail  them  to  imitate  the  crucifix- 
ion and  the  crown  of  thorns,  while  justice  and 
mercy  are  so  entirely  neglected?  What  will  it 
avail  to  place  a  crown  of  thorns  upon  a  child's 
head,  or  to  bid  her  kneel  before  the  image  of  the 
Saviour,  or  travel  up  stairs  on  her  knees,  while  the 
way  of  salvation  by  Christ  is  never  explained  to 
her ;  while  of  real  religion,  holiness  of  heart,  and 
purity  of  life  she  is  as  ignorant  as  the  most 
benighted,  degraded  heathen?  Is  it  rational  to 
suppose  that  the  mere  act  of  repeating  a  prayer 
can  heal  the  wounded  spirit,  or  give  peace  to  a 
troubled  conscience  ?     Can  the  most  cruel  penance 


# 


^6 


LIFE  IN  THE  OBEY  NUNNERY. 


remove  the  sense  of  guilt,  or  whisper  hope  to  the 
desponding  soul?  Ah,  no!  I  have  tried  it  long 
enough  to  speak  v^rith  absolute  certainty.  For 
years  I  practiced  these  senseless  murameries,  and 
if  there  were  any  virtue  in  therii,  I  should,  most 
certainly  have  discovered  it.  But  I  know  full  well, 
and  my  reader  knows  that  they  cannot  satisfy  the 
III  restless  ]|^arnings  of  the  immortal  mind.  They 
may  delude  the  vulgar,  but  they  cannot  dispel  the 
darkness  of  the  tomb,  they  cannot  lead  a  soul  to 
Christ. 

On  leaving  the  chapel  after  the  ceremony,  I 
found  a  new  Superior,  waiting  for  us  at  the  door 
to  conduct  us  to  our  rooms.  We  were  all  very 
much  surprised  at  this,  but  she  informed  us  that 
our  old  Superior  died  that  morning,  that  she  was 
already  buried,  and  she  had  come  to  take  her 
place.  I  could  not  believe  this  story,  for  she  came 
to  us  as  usual  that  morning,  appeared  in  usual 
health,  though  always  very  pale,  and  made  no 
complaint,  or  exhibited  any  signs  of  illness.  She 
told  us  in  her  kind  and  pleasant  way  that  we  were 
to  be  consecrated,  gave  us  a  few  words  of  advice, 
but  said  nothing  about  leaving  us,  and  I  do  not 
\'ielieve  she  even  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Little 
d\d  I  think,  when  she  left  us,  that  I  was  never  to 
se^  her  again.  But  so  it  was.  In  just  two  hours 
and  a  half  from  that  time,  we  were  told  that  she 
was  dead  and  buried,  and  another  filled  her  place ! 
A  probable  story,  truly !  I  wonder  if  they  thought 
we  believed  it !    But  whether  we  did  or  not,  that 


^'"*^"« 


MIDNIGHT  PRAYERS. 


57 


was  all  we  could  ever  know  about  it.  No  allusion 
was  ever  made  to  the  subject,  and  nuns  are  not 
allowed  to  ask  questions.  However  excited  we 
might  feel,  no  information  could  we  seek  as  to  the 
manner  of  her  death.  Whether  she  died  by  dis- 
ease, or  by  the  hand  of  violence ;  whether  her  gen- 
tle spirit  peacefully  winged  its  way  to  the  bosom 
of  its  God,  or  was  hastily  driven  forth  upon  the 
dagger's  point,  whether  some  kind  friend  closed 
her  eyes  in  death,  and  decently  robed  her  cold  limbs 
for  the  grave,  or  whether  torn  upon  the  agonizing 
rack,  whether  she  is  left  to  moulder  away  in  some 
'iungeon's  gloom,  or  thrown  into  the  quickly  con- 
suming fire,  we  could  never  know.  These,  and 
many  other  questions  that  might  have  been  asked, 
will  never  be  answered  until  the  last  great  day, 
when  the  grave  shall  give  up  its  dead,  and  the 
prison  disclose  its  secrets. 

After  the  consecration  we  were  sepdrated,  and 
only  one  of  the  girls  remained  with  me.  The 
others  I  never  saw  again.  We  were  put  into  a 
large  room  where  were  three  beds,  one  large  and 
two  small  ones.  In  the  large  bed  the  Superior 
slept,  while  I  occupied  one  of  the  small  beds  and 
the  other  little  nun  the  other.  Our  new  Superior 
was  very  strict,  and  we  were  severely  punished  for 
the  least  trifle  —  such,  for  instance,  as  making  a 
noise,  either  in  our  own  room  or  in  the  kitchen. 
\/e  might  not  even  smile,  or  make  motions  to 
each  othc  ,  or  look  in  each  other's  face.  We  must 
keep  our  eyes  on  our  work  or  on  the  floor,  in  token 


^ 


A^  '^P'>n:^^%: 


68 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


of  humility.  To  look  a  person  full  in  the  face 
was  considered  an  unpardonable  act  of  boldness. 
On  retiring  for  the  night  we  were  required  to  lie 
perfectly  motionless.  We  might  not  move  a  hand 
or  foot,  or  even  a  finger.  At  twelve  the  bell  rang 
for  prayers,  when  we  must  rise,  kneel  by  our  b<  ds, 
and  repeat  p.rayers  until  the  second  bell,  when  we 
again  retiied  to  rest.  On  cold  winter  nights  thepe 
midnight  prayers  were  a  most  cruel  penance.  It 
did  seem  as  though  7  r  liould  fireeze  to  death.  But 
live  or  die,  the  prayers  imist  be.  said,  and  the  Supe- 
rior was  always  there  to  see  that  we  were  not 
remiss  in  duty.  If  she  rilept  at  all  I  am  sure  it 
must  have  been  v/ith  one  eye  open,  for  she  saw 
everything.  But  if  I  obeyed  in  this  thing,  I  found 
it  impossible  to  He  as  still  as  they  required;  I 
would  move  when  I  was  asleep  without  knowing 
it.  This  of  course  could  not  be  allowed,  and  for 
many  weeks  I  was  strapped  down  to  my  bed  every 
night,  until  I  could  sleep  without  the  movement 
of  a  muscle.  I  was  very  anxious  to  do  as  nearly 
right  as  possible,  for  I  thought  if  they  saw  that  I 
strove  with  all  my  might  to  obey,  they  would  per- 
haps excuse  me  if  I  did  fail  to  conquer  impossibil- 
ities. In  this,  however,  I  was  disappointed ;  and 
I  at  length  became  weary  of  trying  to  do  right,  for 
they  would  inflict  severe  punishments  for  the  most 
trifling  accident.  In  fact,  if  I  give  anything  like 
a  correct  account  of  my  convent  life,  it  will  be  lit- 
tle else  than  a  history  of  punishments.     Painsy 


t-' 


PENANCE  THE  RULE. 


69 


trid^f  prayers,  and  mortifications  filled  lip  the  time. 
Penance  was  the  rule,  to  escape  it  the  exception. 

I  neglect  ^ I  at  the  proper  time  to  state  what  name 
rf'M  ^ivea  jr  e  when  I  took  the  veil;  I  may  there- 
fore as  well  say  in  this  place  that  my  convent 
name  was  Sister  Agnes. 


%. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


I' 


I 


.1  ( 

ii- 


CONFESSION   AND   SORROW    OF    NO   AVAIL. 

It  was  a  part  of  my  business  to  wait  upon  the 
priests  in  their  rooms,  carry  them  water,  clean 
towels,  wine-glasses,  or  anything  they  needed. 
When  entering  a  priest's  room  it  was  customary 
for  a  child  to  knock  twice,  an  adult  four  times,  and 
a  priest  three  times.  This  rule  I  was  very  careful 
to  observe.  Whenever  a  priest  opened  the  door  I 
was  required  to  courtesy,  and  fall  upon  my  knees ; 
but  if  it  was  opened  by  one  of  the  waiters  this 
ceremony  was  omitted.  These  waiters  were  the 
boys  I  have  before  mentioned,  called  apostles.  It 
was  also  a  part  of  my  business  to  wait  upon  them, 
carry  them  clean  frocks,  etc. 

One  day  I  was  carrying  a  pitcher  of  water  to 
one  of  the  priests,  and  it  being  very  heavy,  it 
required  both  my  hands  and  nearly  all  my  strength 
to  keep  it  upright.  On  reaching  the  door,  how- 
ever, I  attempted  to  hold  it  with  one  hand  (as  I 
dare  not  set  it  down),  while  I  rapped  with  the 
other.  In  so  doing  I  chanced  to  spill  a  little  water 
on  the  floor.  Just  at  that  moment  the  door  was 
opened  by  the  priest  himself,  and  when  he  saw  the 
water  he  was  very  angry.    He  caught  me  by  the 


FIRST  PUMISHMEKT. 


61 


arm  and  asked  what  punishment  he  should  inflict 
upon  me  for  being  so  careless.  I  attempted  to 
explain  how  it  happened,  told  him  it  was  an  acci- 
dent, that  I  was  very  sorry,  and  would  try  to  be 
more  careful  in  future.  But  I  might  as  well  have 
said  that  I  was  glad,  and  would  do  so  again,  for 
my  confession,  sorrow,  and  promises  of  future  obe- 
dience were  entirely  thrown  away,  and  might  as 
well  have  been  kept  for  some  one  who  could  appre- 
ciate the  feeling  that  prompted  them. 

He  immediately  led  me  out  of  his  room,  it  being 
on  the  second  floor,  and  down  into  the  back  yard. 
Here,  in  the  centre  of  the  gravel  walk,  was  a  grate 
where  they  put  down  coal.  This  grate  he  raised 
and  bade  me  go  down.  I  obeyed,  and  descending 
a  feW^steps  found  myself  in  a  coal  cellar,  the  floor 
being  covered  with  it  for  some  feet  in  depth.  On 
this  we  walked  some  two  rods,  perhaps,  when  the 
priest  stopped,  and  with  a  shovel  that  stood  near 
cleared  away  the  coal  and  lifted  a  trap  door. 
Through  this  we  descended  four  or  five  steps,  and 
proceeded  along  a  dark,  narrow  passage,  so  low 
we  could  not  stand  erect,  and  the  atmosphere  so 
cold  and  damp  it  produced  the  most  uncomforta- 
ble sensations.  By  the  light  of  a  small  lantern 
which  the  priest  carried  in  his  ha^d,  I  was  enabled 
to  observe  on  each  side  the  passag*  ^mall  doors, 
a  few  feet  apart,  as  far  as  I  could  see.  jBome  of 
them  were  open,  others  shut,  and  the  key  upon 
the  outside.  In  each  of  these  doors  there  w^  a 
small  ouening;  with  iron  bars  across  it,  through 


1 1' 


i 

'1 
1- 

■VI        < 

1 

i 
\ 

? 

\ 

''^            ' 

:| 

1 

11. 

i  •■ 

62 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


which  the  prisoner  received  food,  if  allowed  to 
have  any.  One  of  these  doors  I  was  directed  to 
enter,  which  I  did  with  some  difficulty,  the  place 
being  so  low,  and  I  was  trembling  with  cold  and 
fear.  The  priest  crawled  in  after  me  and  tied  me 
to  the  back  part  of  th^  cell,  leaving  me  there  in 
midnight  darkness,  and  locking  the  door  after  hiAi. 
I  could  hear  on  all  sides,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  the 
sobs,  groans,  and  shrieks  of  other  prisoners,  some 
of  whom  prayed  earnestly  for  death  to  release  them 
from  their  sufferings. 

For  twenty-four  hours  I  was  left  to  bear  as  I 
best  could  the  pains  and  terrors  of  cold,  hunger, 
darkness,  and  fatigue.  I  could  neither  sit  or  lie 
down,  and  every  one  knows  how  very  painful  it  is 
to  stand  upon  the  feet  a  long  time,  even  when  the 
position  can  be  slightly  changed ;  how  much  more 
so  when  no  change  can  be  effected,  but  the  same 
set  of  muscles  kept  continually  on  the  stretch  for 
the  space  of  twenty-four  hours !  Moreover,  I  knew 
not  how  long  I  should  be  kept  there.  The  other 
prisoners,  whose  agonizing  cries  fell  upon  my  ears, 
were  evidently  suffering  all  the  horrors  of  starva* 
tion.  "Was  I  to  meet  a  fate  like  this?  Were 
those  terrible  sufferings  in  reserve  for  me  ?  How 
could  I  endure  them  ?  And  then  came  the  thought 
so  often  present  with  me  while  in  the  convent,  "  If 
there  is  a  God  in  heaven,  why  does  He  permit 
such  things  ?  What  have  I  done  that  I  should 
become  the  victim  of  such  cruelty?  God  of 
mercy !  "  I  involuntarily  exclaimed,  "  save  me  fri  m 
this  terrible  death." 


PRAYER  ANSWERED. 


63 


"s,  some 


My  prayer  was  heard,  my  petition  granted.  At 
the  close  of  twenty-four  hours,  the  Lady  Superior 
came  and  released  mc  from  my  prison,  told  me  to 
go  to  the  priest  and  ask  his  forgiveness,  and  then 
go  to  my  work  in  the  kitchen.  I  was  very  faint 
and  weak  from  my  long  fast,  and  I  resolved  never 
to  offend  again.  I  verily  thought  I  could  be  careful 
enough  to  escape  another  such  punishment.  But  I 
had  not  been  in  the  kitchen  one  hour,  when  I 
chanced  to  let  a  plate  fall  upon  the  floor.  It  was 
in  no  way  injured,  but  I  had  broken  the  rules  by 
making  a  noise,  and  the  Superior  immediately 
reported  me  to  the  priest.  He  soon  appeared  with 
his  bunch  of  keys  and  a  dark  lantern  in  his  hand. 
He  took' me  by  the  ear  which  he  pinched  till  he 
brought  tears  to  my  eyes,  saying,  "  You  don't  try 
to  do  well,  and  I'll  make  you  suffer  the  conse- 
quences." I  did  not  reply,  for  I  had  learned"  that 
to  answer  a  priest,  or  seek  to  vindicate  myself,  or 
even  to  explain  how  things  came  to  be  so,  was  in 
itself  a  crime,  to  be  severely  punished.  However 
unjust  their  treatment,  or  whatever  my  feelings 
might  be,  I  knew  it  was  better  to  suffer  in  silence. 

Unlocking  a  door  that  opened  out  of  the  kitchen, 
and  still  keeping  hold  of  my  ear,  he  led  me  into  a 
dark,  gloomy  hall,  with  black  walls,  and  opening  a 
door  on  the  right,  he  bade  me  enter.  This  room 
was  lighted  by  a  candle,  and  around  the  sides, 
large  iron  hooks  with  heavy  chains  attached  to 
them,  were  driven  into  the  wall.  At  the  back 
part  of  the  room,  he  opened  the  door,  and  bade  me 


«>- 


M 


t 


ii 


■it 


64 


LIFE  IN  THK  GREY  NUNNERY. 


enter  a  small  closet.  He  then  put  a  large  iron 
ring  over  my  head,  and  pressed  it  down  upon  my 
shoulders.  Heavy  weights  were  placed  in  my 
hands,  and  I  was  told  to  stand  up  straight,  and  hold 
them  fifteen  minutes.  This  I  could  not  do.  Had 
my  life  depended  upon  the  effort,  I  could  not  have 
stood  erect,  with  those  weights  in  my  hands.  The 
priest,  however,  did  not  reprove  me.  Perhaps  he 
saw  that  I  exerted  all  my  strength  to  obey,  for  he 
took  out  his  watch,  and  slowly  counted  the  minutes 
as  they  passed.  Ere  a  third  part  of  the  time 
expired,  he  was  obliged  to  release  me,  for  the  blood 
gushed  from  my  nose  and  mouth,  and  I  began  to 
feel  faint  and  dizzy.  The  irons  were  removed,  and 
the  blood  ceased  to  flow. 

I  was  then  taken  to  another  room,  lighted  like 
the  other,  but  it  was  damp  and  cold,  and  pervaded 
by  a  strong,  fetid,  and  very  offensive  odor.  The 
floor  was  of  wood,  and  badly  stained  with  blood. 
At  least,  I  thought  it  was  blood,  but  there  was  not 
light  enough  to  enable  me  to  say  positively  what 
it  was.  In  the  middle  of  the  room,  stood  two 
long  tables,  on  each  of  which,  lay  a  corpse,  covered 
with  a  white  cloth.  The  priest  led  me  to  these 
tables,  removed  the  cloth  and  bade  me  look  upon 
the  face  of  the  dead.  They  were  very  much  ema- 
ciated, and  the  features,  even  in  death,  bore  the 
impress  of  terrible  suffering.  We  stood  there  a 
few  moments,  when  he  again  led  me  back  to  his 
own  room.  He  then  asked  me  what  I  thought  of 
what  I  had  seen.    Having  taken  no  food  for  more 


FEARFUL  8UQ0ESTI0NS. 


66 


than  twenty-four  hours,  I  replied,  "  I  am  so  hungry, 
I  can  think  of  nothing  else."  "  How  would  you 
like  to  eat  those  dead  bodies  ? "  he  asked.  *^  I 
would  starve,  Sir,  before  I  would  do  it,"  I  replied. 
"  Would  you?"  said  he,  with  a  slight  sneer.  "  Yes 
indeed,"  I  exclaimed,  striving  to  suppress  my  indig- 
nant feelings.  *'  What !  eat  the  flesh  of  a  corpse  ? 
You  do  not  mean  it.  I  would  starve  to  death 
first ! "  Frightened  at  my  own  temerity  in  speak- 
ing so  boldly,  I  involuntarily  raised  my  eye.  The 
peculiar  smile  upon  his  face  actually  chilled  my 
blood  with  terror.  He  did  not,  however,  seem  to 
notice  me,  but  said,  '^  Do  not  be  too  sure;  I  have 
seen  others  quite  as  sure  as  you  are,  yet  they  were 
glad  to  do  it  to  save  their  lives ;  and  remember," 
he  added  significantly,  '<  you  will  do  it  too  if  you 
are  not  carefuL"  He  then  ordered  me  to  return  to 
the  kitchen. 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  nuns  had  a 
slice  of  bread  and  cup  of  water ;  but,  as  I  had 
been  fasting,  they  gave  me  a  bowl  of  gruel, 
composed  of  indian  meal  and  water,  with  a  little 
salt.  A  poor  dinner  this,  for  a  hungry  person,  but 
I  could  have  no  more.  At  eleven,  we  went  to 
mass  in  the  chapel  as  usual.  It  was  our  custom 
to  have  mass  every  day,  and  I  have  been  told  that 
this  is  true  of  all  Romish  establishments.  Re- 
turning to  my  work  in  the  kitchen,  I  again  resolved 
that  I  would  be  so  careful,  that,  in  future  they 
should  have  no  cause  for  complaint.  For  two 
days  I  succeeded.  Yes,  for  two  whole  days,  I 
6* 


i 


66 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


HI 


i  I 


escaped  punishment.  This  I  notice  as  somewhat 
remarkable,  because  I  was  generally  punished 
every  day,  and  sometimes  two  or  three  times  in  a 
day. 

On  the  third  morning,  I  was  dusting  the  furni- 
ture in  the  room  occupied  by  the  priest  above 
mentioned,  who  treated  me  so  cruelly.  The  floor 
being  uncarpeted,  in  moving  the  chairs  I  chanced 
to  make  a  slight  noise,  although  I  did  my  best  to 
avoid  it.  He  immediately  sprang  to  his  feet, 
exclaiming,  "  You  careless  dog !  What  did  you 
do  that  for  ?  "  Then  taking  me  by  the  arms,  he 
gave  me  a  hard  shake,  saying,  "  Have  I  not  told 
you  that  you  would  be  punished,  if  you  made  a 
noise  ?  But  I  see  how  it  is  with  you ;  your  mind 
is  on  the  world,  and  you  think  more  of  that,  than 
you  do  of  the  convent.  But  I  shall  punish  you 
until  you  do  your  duty  better."  He  concluded  this 
choice  speech  by  telling  me  to  "marcjbi  down 
stairs."  Of  course,  I  obeyed,  and  he  followed  me, 
striking  me  on  the  head  at  every  step,  with  a  book 
he  held  in  his  hand.  I  thought  to  escape  some  of 
the  blows,  and  hastened  along,  but  all  in  vain ;  he 
kept  near  me  and  drove  me  before  him  into  the 
priests  sitting-room.  He  then  sent  for  three  more 
priests,  to  decide  upon  my  punishment.  A  long 
consultation  they  held  upon  "this  serious  busi- 
ness," as  I  sneeringly  thought.it,  but  the  result  was 
serious  in  good  earnest,  I  assure  you.  For  the 
heinous  oflenc)  of  making  a  slight  noise  I  was  to 
have  dry  peas  oound  upon  my  knees,  and  then  be 


UNDERGROUND  PASSAGE. 


67 


made  to  crawl  to  St.  Patrick's  church,  through  an 
underground  passage,  and  back  again.  This 
church  was  situated  on  a  hill,  a  little  more  than 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  convent.  Between 
the  two  buildings,  on  under-ground  passage  had 
been  constructed,  just  large  enough  to  allow  a  per- 
son to  crawl  through  it  on  the  hands  and  knees. 
It  was  so  low,  and  narrow,  that  it  was  impossible 
either  to  rise,  or  turn  around ;  once  within  that  pas- 
sage there  was  no  escape,  but  to  go  on  to  the  end. 
They  allowed  me  five  hours  to  go  and  return;  and 
to  prove  that  I  had  really  been  there,  I  was  to 
make  a  cross,  and  two  straight  lines,  with  a  bit  of 
chalk,  upon  a  black-board  that  I  should  find  at  the 
end. 

O,  the  intolerable  agonies  I  endured  on  that  ter- 
rible pathway !  Any  description  that  I  can  give, 
will  fail  to  convey  the  least  idea  of  the  misery  of 
those  long  five  hours.  It  may,  perchance,  seem  a 
very  simple  mode  of  punishment,  but  let  any  one 
just  try  it,  and  they  will  be  convinced  that  it  was 
no  trifling  thing.  At  the  end,  I  found  myself  in  a 
cellar  under  the  church,  where  there  was  light 
enough  to  enable  me  to  find  the  board  and  the 
chalk.  I  made  the  mark  according  to  orders,  and 
then  looked  around  for  some  means  of  escape. 
Alas !  There  was  none  to  be  found.  Strong  iron 
bars  firmly  secured  the  only  door,  and  a  very  slight 
examination  convinced  me  that  my  case  was 
utterly  hopeless.  I  then  tried  to  remove  the  peas 
from  my  swollen,  bleeding  limbs,  but  this,  too,  i 
found  impossible.     They  were  evidently  fastened 


),!; 


68 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNEIIY. 


by  a  practised  hand ;  and  I  was,  at  length,  com- 
pelled to  believe  that  I  must  return  as  I  came.  I 
did  return ;  but  O,  how  many  times  I  gave  up  in 
despair,  and  thought  I  could  go  no  further !  How 
many  times  did  I  stretch  myself  on  the  cold  stones, 
in  such  bitter  agony,  that  I  could  have  welcomed 
death  as  a  friend  and  deliverer !  What  would  I 
not  have  given  for  one  glass  of  cold  water,  or  even 
for  a  breath  of  fresh  air !  My  limbs  seemed  on 
fire,  and  while  great  drops  of  perspiration  fell  from 
my  face,  my  throat  and  tongue  were  literally 
parched  with  thirst.  But  the  end  came  at  last, 
and  I  found  the  priest  waiting  for  me  at  the 
entrance.  He  seemed  very  angry,  and  said,  "  You 
have  been  gone  over  your  time.  There  was  no 
need  of  it;  you  could  have  returned  sooner  if  you 
had  chosen  to  do  so,  and  now,  I  shall  punish  you 
again,  for  being  gone  so  long."  At  first,  his 
reproaches  grieved  me,  for  I  had  done  my  best  to 
please  him,  and  1  did  so  long  for  one  word  of 
sympathy,  it  seemed  for  a  moment,  as  though  my 
heart  would  break.  Had  he  then  spoken  one  kind 
word  to  me,  or  manifested  the  least  compassion 
for  my  sufferings,  I  could  have  forgiven  the  past, 
and  obeyed  him  with  feelings  of  love  and  gratitude 
for  the  future.  Yes,  I  would  have  done  anything  for 
that  man,  if  I  could  have  felt  that  he  had  the  least 
pity  for  me ;  but  when  he  said  he  should  punish 
me  again,  my  heart  turned  to  stone.  Every  tender 
emotion  vanished,  and  a  fierce  hatred,  a  burning 
indignation,  and  thirst  for  revenge,  took  possession 
of  mv  soul. 


aafc; 


CHAPTER  IX. 


ALONE  WITH  THE  DEAD. 


The  priest  removed  the  peas  from  my  limbs,  and 
led  me  to  a  tomb  under  the  chapel,  where  he  left 
me,  with  the  consoling  assurance  that  "  The  dead 
ivould  rise  and  eat  me  !"  This  tomb  was  a  large 
rectangular  room,  with  shelves  on  three  sides  of  it, 
on  which  were  the  cojfiins  of  priests  and  Superiors 
who  had  died  in  the  nunnery.  On  the  floor  under 
the  shelves,  were  large  piles  of  human  bones,  dry 
and  white,  and  some  of  them  crumbling  into  dust. 
In  the  center  of  the  room  was  a  large  tank  of  water, 
several  feet  in  diameter,  called  St.  Joseph's  well. 
It  occupied  the  whole  center  of  the  room  leaving  a 
very  narrow  pathway  between  that,  and  the  shelves; 
so  narrow,  indeed,  that  I  found  it  impossible  to^it 
down,  and  exceedingly  difficult  to  walk  or  even 
stand  still.  I  was  obliged  to  hold  firmly  by  the 
shelves,  to  avoid  slipping  into  the  water  which 
looked  dark  and  deep.  The  priest  said,  when  ha 
left  me,  that  if  I  fell  in,  I  would  drown,  for  no  one 
could  take  me  out. 

O5  how  my  heart  thrilled  with  superstitious  ter- 
ror when  I  heard  th*^  key  turn  in  the  lock,  and  real- 
ized that  I  was  alone  with  the  dead  I  And  that  was 


''% 


70 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


,i    ; 


n  ^-f  i 


M   I 


\M> 


cf 


not  the  worst  of  it.  They  would  rise  and  eat  me! 
For  a  few  hours  I  stood  as  though  paralyzed  with 
fear.  A  cold  perspiration  covered  my  trembling 
limbs,  as  I  watched  those  coffins  with  the  most 
painful  and  serious  apprehension.  Every  moment 
I  expected  the  fearful  catastrophe,  and  even  won- 
dered w  hich  part  they  would  devour  first  —  whether 
one  woi^id  come  alone  and  thus  kill  me  by  inches,  or 
whether  the  y  would  all  rise  at  once,  and  quickly  make 
an  enu  of  me.  I  even  imagined  I  could  see  the  cof- 
fins move  —  that  I  heard  the  dead  groan  and  sigh 
and  even  the  sound  of  my  own  chattering  teeth,  I 
fancied  to  be  a  movement  among  the  dry  bones 
that  lay  at  my  feet.  In  the  extremity  of  terror  I 
shrieked  aloud.  But  this  I  knew  was  utterly  use- 
less. Who  would  hear  me?  Or  who  would  care 
if  they  did  hear?  I  was  surrounded  by  walls  that 
no  sound  could  penetrate,  and  if  it  could,  it  would 
fall  upon  ears  deaf  to  the  agonizing  cry  for  mercy, 
—  upon  hearts  that  feel  no  sympathy  for  human 
woe. 

Some  persons  may  be  disposed  to  smile  at  this 
record  of  absurd  and  superstitious  fear.  But  to 
me  it  v/as  no  laughing  afiair.  Had  not  the  priest 
said  that  the  dead  would  rise  and  eat  me  ?  And 
did  I  not  firmly  believe  that  what  he  said  was  true  ? 
What!  A  priest  tell  a  falsehood?  Impossible.  I 
thought  it  could  not  be;  yet  as  hour  after  hour 
passed  away,  and  no  harm  came  to  me,  I  began  to 
exercise  my  reason  a  little,  and  very  soon  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  the  priests  are  not  the  immac- 


NO  FAITH  IN  THE  PRIEST. 


71 


ulate,  infallible  beings  I  had  been  taught  to  believe. 
Cruel  and  hard  hearted,  I  knew  them  to  be,  but  I 
did  not  suspect  them  of  falsehood.  Hitherto  I  had 
supposed  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  do  wrong, 
or  to  err  in  judgement ;  all  their  cruel  acts  being 
done  for  the  benefit  of  the  soul,  which  in  some  inex- 
plicable way  was  to  be  benefited  by  the  sufferings 
of  the  body.  Now,  however,  I  began  to  question 
the  truth  of  many  thin^<^s  I  had  seen  and  heard,  and 
ere  long  I  lost  all  faith  in  them,  or  in  the  terrible 
system  of  bigotry,  cruelty  and  fraud,  which  they 
call  religion.  ' 

As  the  hours  passed  by  and  my  fears  vanished 
before  the  calm  light  of  reason,  I  gradually  gained 
.sufficient  courage  to  enable  me  to  examine  the  tomb, 
thinking  that  I  might  perchance  discover  the  body 
of  my  old  Superior.  For  this  purpose  I  accord- 
ingly commenced  the  circuit  of  the  room,  holding 
on  by  the  shelves,  and  making  my  way  slowly 
onward.  One  cofi^n  I  succeeded  in  opening,  but 
the  sight  of  the  corpse  so  frightened  me,  I  did  not 
dare  to  open  another.  The  room  being  brilliantly 
lighted  with  two  Isgrge  spermaceti  candles  at  one 
end,  and  a  gas  burner  at  the  other,  I  was  enabled  to 
see  every  feature  distinctly. 

One  of  the  nuns  informed  me  that  none  but 
priests  and  Superiors  are  laid  in  that  tomb.  Whei* 
these  die  in  full  communion  with  the  church,  the 
body  is  embalmed,  and  placed  here,  but  it  some- 
times happens  that  a  priest  or  Superior  is  found  in 
the  convent  who  does  not  believe  all  that  is  taught 


ilM.  iiFi^tlii- 


■^ 


72 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


i 


u 


: 


5 


by  the  church  of  Rome.  They  desire  to  investi- 
gate the  subject —  to  seek  for  more  light — more 
knowledge  of  the  way  of  salvation  by  Christ. 
This,  with  the  Romanists  is  a  great  sin,  and  the  poor 
hapless  victim  is  at  once  placed  under  punishment. 
If  they  die  in  this  condition,  their  bodies  are  cast 
out  ,'is  heretics,  but  if  they  confess  and  receive  abso- 
lution, they  are  placed  in  the  tomb,  but  not 
embakned.  The  flesh,  of  course,  decays,  and  then 
^he  bones  are  thrown  under  the  shelves.  Never 
/iiail  I  forget  how  frightful  those  bones  appeared 
to  rr  ;,  or  the  cold  shudder  that  thrilled  my  frame 
at  the  sight  of  the  numerous  human  skulls  that  lay 
scattered  around. 

Twenty-four  hours  I  spent  in  this  abode  of  the 
dead,  without  rest  or  sleep.  The  attempt  to  obtain 
either  would  have  been  sheer  madness,  for  the  least 
mis-step,  the  least  unguarded  motion,  or  a  slight 
relaxation  of  the  firm  grasp  by  which  I  held  on  to 
the  shelves,  would  have  plunged  me  headlong  into 
the  dark  water,  from  which  escape  would  have 
been  impossible.  For  thirty  hours  I  had  not  tasted 
food,  and  my  limbs,  mangled  and  badly  swollen, 
were  so  stiff  with  long  standing,  that,  when  allowed 
to  leave  the  tomb,  I  coula  hardly  step.  When  the 
priest  came  to  let  me  out,  he  seemed  o  think  it 
necessary  to  say  something  to  cover  his  attempt  to 
deceive  and  frighten  me,  but  he  only  made  a  bad 
matter  worse.  He  said  that  after  he  left  me,  he 
thought  he  would  try  me  once  more,  and  see  if  I 
would  not  do  my  duty  better;  he  had, thierefore, 


*■-, 


RIDICULOUS  PRETENCE. 


73 


willed  the  dead  not  to  eat  me  !  and  they,,  obedient  to 
his  willj  were  compelled  to  let  me  alone  !  I  did  not 
reply  to  this  absurd  declaration,  lest  I  should  say 
something  I  ought  not,  and  again  incur  his  dis- 
pleasure. Indeed,  I  was  not  expected  to  say  any- 
thing, unless  I  returned  thanks  for  his  unparalleled 
kindness,  and  I  was  not  hypocrite  enough  for  that. 
I  suppose  he  thought  I  believed  all  he  said,  but  he 
was  greatly  mistaken.  If  I  began  to  doubt  his 
word  while  in  the  tomb,  this  ridiculous  pretence 
only  served  to  add  contempt  to  unbelief,  and  from 
that  time  I  regarded  him  as  a  deceiver,  and«a  vile, 
unscrupulous,  hypocritical  pretender. 

It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  I  again 
made  my  way  to  the  kitchen.  I  was  never  very 
strong,  even  when  allowed  my  regular  meals,  for 
the  quantity  was  altogether  insufficient  to  sat- 
isfy the  demands  of  nature ;  and  now  I  had  been 
so  long  without  anything  to  eat,  I  was  so  weajt, 
and  my  limbs  so  stiff  and  swollen,  I  could  hardly 
stand.  I  managed,  however,  to  reach  the  kitchen, 
when  I  was  immediately  seated  at  the  table  and 
presented  with  a  bowl  of  gruel.  O,  what  a  luxmry 
it  seemed  to  me,  and  how  eagerly  did  I  partake  of 
it!  It  was  soon  gone,  and  I  looked  around  for  a 
further  supply.  Another  nun,  who  sat  at  the  table 
with  me,  with  a  bowl  of  gruel  before  her,  noticed 
my  disappointment  when  I  saw  that  I  was  to  have 
no  more.  She  was  a  stranger  to  me,  and  so  pale 
and  emaciated  she  looked  more  like  a  corpse  than 
a  living  person.     She  had  tasted  a  little  of  her 

7 


74 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


I  ■  ; 


f  ' 


gruel,  but  her  stomach  was  too  weak  to  retain  it, 
and  as  soon  as  the  Superior  left  us  she  took  it  up 
and  poured  the  whole  into  my  bowl,  making  at  the 
same  time  a  gesture  that  gave  me  to  understand 
that  it  was  of  no  use  to  her,  and  she  wished  me  to 
eat  it.  I  did  not  wait  for  a  second  invitation,  and 
she  seemed  pleased  to  see  me  accept  it  so  readily. 
"We  dared  not  speak,  but  we  had  no  difficulty  in 
understanding  each  other. 

I  had  but  just  finished  my  gruel  when  the  Superior 
came  back  and  desired  me  to  go  up  stairs  and  help 
tie  a  mad  nun.  I  think  she  did  this  simply  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  me  a  quiet  lesson  in  convent  life, 
and  showing  me  the  consequences  of  resistance  or 
disobedience.  She  must  have  known  that  I  was 
altogether  incapable  of  giving  the  assistance  she 
pretended  to  ask.  But  I  followed  her  as  fast  as 
possible,  and  when  she  saw  how  difficult  it  was 
for  me  to  get  up  stairs,  she  walked  slowly  and  gave 
me  all  the  time  I  wished  for.  She  led  me  into  a 
small  room  and  closed  the  door.  There  I  beheld 
fi  scjjne  that  called  forth  my  warmest  sympathy, 
•and  at  the  same  time  excited  feelings  of  indigna- 
tion that  will  never  be  subdued  while  reason 
retains  her  throne.  In  the  center  of  the  room  sat 
a  young  girl,  who  could  not  have  been  more  than 
sixteen  years  old ;  and  a  face  and  form  of  such 
perfect  symmetry,  such  surpassing  beauty,  I  never 
saw.  She  was  divested  of  all  her  clothing  except 
one  under-garment,  and  her  nands  anA  feet  securely 
tied  to  the  chair  on  which  she  sat.     A  priest  stood 


THE  MAD   NUN. 


75 


i 


beside  her,  and  as  we  entered  he  bade  us  assist  him 
in  removing  the  beds  from  the  bedstead.     They 

then  took  the  nun  from  her  chair  and  laid  her  on 
the  bedcord.  They  desired  me  to  assist  them,  but 
my  heart  failed  me.  I  could  not  do  it,  for  I  was 
sure  they  were  about  to  kill  her ;  and  as  I  gazed 
upon  those  calm,  expressive  features,  so  pale  and 
sad,  yet  so  perfectly  beautiful,  I  felt  that  it  would 
be  sacrilege  for  me  to  raise  my  hand  against 
nature's  holiest  and  most  exquisite  work.  I  there- 
fore assured  them  that  I  was  too  weak  to  render 
the  assistance  they  required.  At  first  they  at- 
tempted to  compel  me  to  do  it ;  but,  finding  that 
I  was  really  very  weak,  and  unwilling  to  use  what 
strength  I  had,  they  at  length  permitted  me  to 
stand  aside.  When  they  extended  the  poor  girl 
on  the  cord,  she  said,  very  quietly,  "  I  am  not  mad, 
and  you  know  that  I  am  not."  To  this  no  answer 
was  given,  but  they  calmly  proceeded  with  their 
fiendish  work.  One  of  them  tied  her  feet,  while 
the  other  fastened  a  rope  across  her  neck  in  such 
a  way  that  if  she  attempted  to  raise  her  head  it 
would  strangle  her.  The  rope  was  then  fastened 
under  the  bedcord,  and  two  or  three  times  over  her 
person.  Her  arms  were  extended,  and  fastened  in 
the  same  way.  As  she  lay  thus,  like  a  lamb  bound 
for  the  sacrifice,  she  looked  up  at  her  tormentors 
and  said,  "  Will  the  Lord  permit  me  to  die  in  this 
cruel  way  ?  "  The  priest  immediately  exclaimed, 
in  an  angry  tone,  "Stop  your  talk,  you  mad 
woman ! "  and  turning  to  me,  he  bade  me  go  back 


76 


LIFE   IN  THE  ORFY  NUNNERY. 


h    i 


to  the  kitchen.  It  is  probable  he  saw  the  impres- 
sion on  my  mind  was  not  just  what  they  desired, 
therefore  he  hurried  me  away. 

All  this  time  the  poor  doomed  nun  submitted 
quietly  to  her  fate.  I  suppose  she  thought  it  use- 
less, yea,  worse  than  useless,  to  resist ;  for  any 
effort  she  might  make  to  escape  would  only  pro- 
voke them,  and  they  would  torment  her  the  more. 
I  presume  she  thought  her  last  hour  had  come,  and 
the  sooner  she  was  out  of  her  misery  the  better. 
As  for  me,  my  heart  was  so  filled  with  terror, 
anguish,  and  pity  for  her,  I  could  hardly  obey  the 
command  to  leave  the  room. 

I  attempted  to  descend  the  stairs,  but  was 
obliged  to  go  very  slowly  on  account  of  the  stiff- 
ness of  my  limbs,  and  '>t'fore  I  reached  the  bottopi 
of  the  first  flight  the  pries'  and  the  Superior  came 
out  into  the  fcall.  I  Iteard  them  whispering  to- 
gether, and  I  paused  to  listen.  This,  I  know,  was 
wrong;  but  I  could  not  help  it,  and  I  was  so 
excited  I  did  not  realize  what  I  was  doing.  My 
anxiely  for  that  girl  overpowered  every  other  feeling. 
At  first  I  could  only  hear  the  sound  of  their  voices ; 
but  soon  they  spoke  more  distinctly,  and  I  heard 
the  words.  "  "What  shall  we  do  with  lier  ?  she  will 
never  confess."  In  an  audible  tone  of  voice,  the 
other  replied,  "  "We  had  better  finish  her."  How 
those  words  thrilled  my  soul!  I  knew  well 
enough  that  they  designed  "to  finish  her,"  but 
to  hear  the  purpose  announced  so  coolly,  it  was 
horrible.    Was  there  no  way  that  I  could  save  her? 


MADDENING  THOUGHT. 


^'    77 


Must  I  stand  there,  and  know  that  a  fellow-crea- 
ture was  being  murdered,  that  a  young  girl  like 
myself,  in  all  the  freshness  of  youth  and  the  full- 
ness of  health,  was  to  be  cut  off  in  the  very  prime 
of  life  and  numbered  with  the  dead ;  hurried  out 
of  existence  and  plunged,  unwept,  unlamr' 
into  darkness  and  silence  ?  She  had  frie. 
doubtedly,  but  they  would  never  be  allovv 
know  her  sad  fate,  never  shed  a  tear  upon  uvi 
grave!  I  could  not  endure  the  thought.  I  felt 
that  if  I  lingered  there  another  moment  I  should 
be  in  danger  of  madness  myself;  for  I  could  not 
help  her.  I  could  not  prevent  the  consummation 
of  their  cruel  purpose ;  I  therefore  hastened  away, 
and  this  was  the  last  I  ever  heard  of  that  poor 
nun.  I  had  never  seen  her  before,  and  as  I  did  not 
see  her  clothes,  I  could  not  even  tell  whether  she 
belonged  to  our  nunnery  or  not. 

7* 


^ 

!^^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


1125 


•i>  lU   12.2 


£  Ht 


lU 
u 


^ 


V 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STMIT 

WliSTIR,N.Y.  14StO 

(7l6)l7a-4S03 


r^!^ 


4^ 


CHAPTER    X. 


THE   SICK   NUN. 


On  my  return  to  the  kitchen  I  found  the  sick 
nun  sitting  as  we  left  her.  She  asked  me,  by  signs, 
if  we  were  alone.  I  told  her  she  need  not  fear  to 
speak,  for  the  Superior  was  two  flights  of  stairs 
above,  and  no  one  else  was  near.  <<  Are  they  all 
away?"  she  whispered.  I  assured  her  that  we 
were  quite  alone,  that  she  had  nothing  to  fear. 
She  then  informed  me  ^.hat  she  had  been  nine  days 
under  punishment,  that  when  taken  from  the  cell 
she  could  not  stand  or  speak,  and  she  was  still  too 
weak  to  walk  without  assistance.  *^0\"  said  she, 
and  the  big  tears  rolled  over  her  cheeks  as  she  said 
it, "  I  have  not  a  Mend  in  the  world.  You  do  not 
know  how  my  heart  longs  for  love,  for  sympathy 
and  kindness."  I  asked  if  she  had  not  parents,  or 
friends,  in  the  world.  She  replied,  <<  I  was  born  in 
this  convent,  and  know  no  world  but  this.  You 
see,"  she  continued,  with  a  sad  smile,  <<  what  kind 
of  Mends  I  have  here.  O,  if  I  had  a  frieiidf  if  I 
could  feel  that  one  human  being  cares  for  me,  I 
should  get  better.  But  it  is  so  long  since  I  heard 
a  kind  word  — "  a  sob  choked  her  utterance.  I 
told  her  I  would  be  a  friend  to  her  as  far  as  I 


WORTH  OP  A  KIND  LOOK. 


79 


could.  She  thanked  me ;  said  she  was  well  aware 
of  the  difficulties  that  lay  in  my  way,  for  every 
expression  of  sympathy  or  kind  feeling  between 
the  nuns  was  strictly  forbidden,  and  if  caught  in 
anything  of  the  kind  a  severe  correction  would  fol- 
low. ^*But,"  said  she  "if  you  will  give  me  a 
kind  look  sometimes,  whenever  you  can  do  so  with 
safety,  it  will  be  worth  a  great  deal  to  me.  You 
do  not  know  the  value  of  a  kind  look  to  a  breaking 
heart" 

She  wept  so  bitterly,  I  feared  it  would  injure  her 
health,  and  to  divert  her  mind,  I  told  her  where  I 
was  born ;  spoke  of  my  childhood,  and  of  my  life 
at  the  "White  Nunnery.  She  wiped  away  her  tears, 
and  replied, "  I  know  all  about  it  I  have  heard 
the  priests  talk  about  you,  and  they  say  that  youi 
father  is  yet  living,  that  your  mother  was  a  firm 
protestant,  and  that  it  will  be  hard  for  them  to  beat 
Catholicism  into  you.  But  I  do  not  know  how 
you  came  in  that  nunnery.  Who  put  you  there?  " 
I  told  her  that  I  was  placed  there  by  myj^|ti(||^ 
when  only  six  years  old.  "Is  it  possible-! ^^Sfie 
exclaimed,  and  'then  added  passionately,  "  Cuilsid^^^ 
your  father  for  it."  After  a  mon^ents  silence,  she 
continued,  "  Yes,  child ;  you  have  indeed  cause  to 
curse  your  father,  and  the  day  when  you  first 
entered  the  convent;  but  you  do  not  suffer  as 
much  as  you  would  if  you  had  been  bom  here, 
and  were  entirely  dependent  on  them.  They  fear 
that  your  firiends  may  sometiine  look  after  you; 
and,  in  case  they  are  compelled  to  gpraot  them  an 


i 


80 


LIFE  IN  THE  GRET  NUNNERY. 


interview,  they  would  wish  them  to  find  you  in 
good  health  and  contented;  but  if  you  had  no 
influential  friends  outside  the  convent,  you  would 
find  yourself  much  worse  off  than  you  are  now." 

She  then  said  she  wished  she  could  get  some  of 
the  brandy  from  the  cellar.  Her  stomach  was  so 
weak  from  long  fasting,  it  would  retain  neither 
food  or  drink,  and  she  thought  the  brandy  would 
give  it  strength.  She  asked  if  I  could  get  it  for 
her.  The  idea  firightened  me  at  first,  for  I  knew 
that  if  caught  in  doing  it,  I  should  be  most  cruelly 
punished,  yet  my  sympathy  for  her  at  length  over- 
came my  fears,  and  I  resolved  to  try,  whatever 
might  be  the  result.  I  accordingly  went  up  stairs, 
ostensibly,  to  see  if  the  Superior  wanted  me,  but 
really,  to  find  out  where  she  was,  and  whether  she 
would  be  likely  to  come  down,  before  I  could  have 
time  to  carry  out  my  plan.  I  trembled  a  little,  for 
I  knew  that  I  was  guilty  of  a  great  misdemeanor 
in  thus  boldly  presenting  myself  to  ask  if  I  was 
wanted ;  but  I  thought  it  no  very  great  sin  to  pre- 
tend that  I  thought  she  called  me,  for  I  was  sure 
my  motives  were  good,  whatever  they  might  think 
of  them.  I  had  been  taught  that  <*  the  end  sancti- 
fies the  means,"  and  I  thought  I  should  not  be  too 
hardly  judged  by  the  great  searcher  of  hearts,  if, 
for  once,  I  applied  it  in  my  own  way> 

I  knocked  gently  at  the  door  I  had  left  bat  a 
few  moments  before.  It  was  opened  by  the  Supe- 
rior, but  she  immediately  stepped  out,  and  closed 
it  aj^n,  so  that  I  had  no  opportunity  to  see  \(4iat 


STEALING  BRANDT. 


81 


was  passing  within.  She  sternly  bade  me  return 
to  the  kitchen,  and  stay  there  till  she  came  down ; 
a  command  I  was  quite  ready  to  obey.  In  the 
kitchen  there  was  a  small  cupboard,  called  the  key 
cupboard,  in  which  they  kept  keys  of  all  sizes 
belonging  to  the  establishment.  They  were  hung 
on  hooks,  each  one  being  marked  with  the  name 
of  the  place  to  which  it  -belonged.  It  was  easy 
for  me  to  find  the  key  to  the  cellar,  and  having 
obtained  it,  I  opened  another  cupboard  filled  with 
bottles  and  vials,  where  I  selected  one  that  held 
half  a  pint,  placed  it  in  a  large  pitcher,  and  has- 
tened down  stairs.  I  soon  found  a  cask  marked 
"  brandy,"  turned  the  faucet,  and  filled  the  bottle. 
But  my  heart  beat  violently,  and  my  h&nd  trembled 
so  that  I  could  not  hold  it  steady,  and  some  of  it 
ran  over  into  the  pitcher.  It  was  well  for  me. that 
I  took  tMs  precaution,  for  if  I  had  spilt  it  on  the 
stone  floor  of  the  cellar,  I  should  have  been 
detected  at  once.  I  ran  up  stairs  as  quickly  as 
possible,  and  made  her  drink  what  I  had  in  the 
pitcher,  though  there  was  more  of  it  than  I  should 
have  given  her  under  other  circumstances ;  but  I 
did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it  If  I  put  it  in 
the  fire,  or  in  the  sink,  I  thought  they  would  cer- 
tainly smell  it,  and  there  was  no  other  place,  for  I 
was  not  allowed  to  go  out  of  doors.  I  then 
replaced  the  key,  washed  up  my  pitcher,  and 
secreted  the  bottle  of  brandy  in  the  waist  of  the 
nun's  dress.  This  I  could  easily  do,  their  dresses 
being  made  with  a  loose  waist,  and  a  large  cape 


82 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


worn  over  them.  I  then  began  to  devise  some  way 
to  destroy  the  scent  in  the  room.  I  could  smell  it 
very  distinctly,  and  I  knew  that  the  Superior 
would  notice  it  at  once.  After  trying  various 
expedients  to  no  purpose,  I  at  length  remembered 
that  I  had  once  seen  a  dry  rag  set  on  fire  for  a 
similar  purpose.  I  therefore  took  one  of  the  cloths 
from  the  sink,  and  set  it  on  fire,  let  it  bum  a 
moment,  and  threw  it  under  the  caldron. 

I  was  just  beginning  to  congratulate  myself  on 
my  success,  when  I  saw  that  the  nun  appeared 
insensible,  and  about  to  fall  from  her  chair.  I 
caught  her  in  my  arms,  and  leaned  her  back  in  the 
chair,  but  I  did  not  dare  to  lay  her  on  the  bed, 
without  permission,  even  if  I  had  strength  to  doit. 
I  could  only  draw  her  chair  to  the  side  of  the 
room,  put  a  stick  of  wood  under  it,  and  let  h^ 
head  rest  against  the  wall.  I  was  vety  much 
frightened,  and  for  a  moment,  thought  she  was 
dead.  She  was  pale  as  a  corpse,  her  eyes  closed, 
and  her  month  wide  open.  Had  I  really  killed 
her?  What  if  the  Superior  should  find  her  thus? 
I  soon  found  that  she  was  not  dead,  for  her  heart 
beat  regularly,  and  I  began  to  hope  she  would  get 
over  it  before  any  one  came  in.  But  just  as  the 
thought  passed  my  mind,  the  door  opened  and  the 
Superior  appeared.  Her  first  words  were,  *<  What 
have  you  been  burning?  What  smells  so?**  I 
told  her  there  was  a  cloth  about  the  sink  that  I 
thought  unfit  for  use,  and  I  put  it  under  the  cald- 
ron.   She  then  turned  towards  the  nun  and  asked 


RESULTS. 


83 


if  she  had  fainted.  «I  told  her  that  I  did  not 
know,  but  I  thought  she  was  asleep,  and  if  she 
wished  me  to  awaken,  and  assist  her  to  bed,  I 
would  do  sa  To  this  she  consented,  and  imme- 
diately went  up  stairs  again.  Glad  as  I  was  of 
this  permission,  I  still  doubted  my  ability  to  do  it 
alone,  for  I  had  little,  very  little  strength ;  yet  I 
resolved  to  do  my  best.  It  was  long,  however, 
before  I  could  arouse  her,  or  make  her  comprehend 
what  I  said,  so  entirely  were  her  senses  stupified 
with  the  brandy.  When  at  length  I  succeeded  in 
getting  her  upon  her  feet,  she  said  she  was  sure  she 
could  not  walk ;  but  I  encouraged  her  to  help  her- 
self as  much  as  possible,  told  her  that  I  wished  to 
get  her  away  before  any  one  came  in,  or  we  would 
be  certainly  found  out  and  punished.  This  sug- 
gestion awakened  her  fears,  and  I  at  length  suc- 
ceeded in  assisting  her  to  bed.  She  was  soon  in  a 
sound  sleep,  and  I  thought  my  troubles  for  that 
time  were  over.  But  I  was  mistaken.  In  my 
fright,  I  had  quite  forgotten  the  brandy  in  her 
dress.  Somehow  the  bottle  was  cracked,  and 
.  while  she  slept,  the  brandy  ran  over  her  clothes. 
The  Superior  saw  it,  and  asked  how  she  obtained 
it.  Too  noble  minded  to  expose  me,  she  said  ^he 
drew  it  herself.  I  heard  the  Superior  talking  to  a 
priest  about  it,  and  I  thought  they  were  preparing 
to  punish  her.  I  did  not  know  what  she  had  told 
them,  but  I  did  not  think  she  Would  expose  me, 
and  I  feared,  if  they  punished  her  again,  she  would 
die  in  their  hands. 


^:'y=^«ryqigey''?M»y*-^^'w;:y'«\tt»»wijffli!Hyffi 


f't     1 

1  i  '^' 

1 

84 


LIFB  III  THE  ORBT  NUNNERY. 


I  therefore  went  to  the  Superior  and  told  her  the 
truth  about  it,  for  I  thought  a  candid  confession  on 
my  part  might,  perchance,  procure  forgiveness  for 
the  nun,  if  not  for  myself.  But  no  ;  they  punished 
us  both ;  the  nun  for  telling  the  lie,  and  me  for  getting 
the  brandy.  For  two  hours  they  made  me  stand 
with  a  crown  of  thorns  on  my  head,  while  they 
alternately  employed  themselves  in  burning  me 
with  hot  irons,  pinching,  and  piercing  me  with 
needles,  pulling  my  hair,  and  striking  me  with 
sticks.  All  this  I  bore  very  well,  for  I  was  hurt 
just  enough  to  make  me  angry. 

When  I  returned  to  the  kitchen  again,  the  nun 
was  sitting  there  alone.  She  shook  her  head  at 
me,  and  by  her  gestures  gave  me  to  understand 
that  some  one  was  listening.  She  afterwards 
informed  me  that^the  Superior  was  watching  us,  to 
see  if  we  would  speak  to  each  other  when  we  met. 
I  do  not  know  how  they  punished  her,  but  I  heard 
a  priest  say  that  she  would  die  if  she  suffered  much 
more.  Perhaps  they  thought  the  loss  of  that  pre- 
cious bottle  of  brandy  was  punishment  enough. 
But  I  was  glad  I  got  it  for  her,  for  she  had  one  . 
good  dose  of  it,  and  it  did  her  good ;  her  stomach 
was  stronger,  her  appetite  better,  and  in  a  few 
weeks  she  regained  her  usual  health. 

One  day,  while  at  work  as  usual,  I  was  called 
up  stairs  with  the  other  nuns  to  see  one  die.  She 
lay  upon  the  bed,  and  looked  pale  and  thin,  but  I 
could  see  no  signs  of  immediate  dissolution.  Her 
voice  was  strong,  and  respiration  perfectly  natural, 


GIYIN  TO  THE  DEVIL. 


85 


but  the  nuns  were  all  assembled  in  her  room  to 
see  her  die.  Beside  her  stood  a  priest,  earnestly 
exhorting  her  to  confess  her  sins  to  him,  and  threat- 
ening her  with  eternal  punishment  if  she  refused. 
But  nhe  replied,  <*  No,  I  will  not  confess  to  you.  If, 
as  you  say,  I  am  really  dying,  it  is  with  my  God 
I  have  to  do ;  to  him  alone  will  I  confess,  for  he 
alone  can  save.''  **  If  you  do  not  confess  to  me," 
exclaimed  the  priest, "  I  will  give  you  up  to  the 
devil."  **  Well,"  said  she,  *^  I  stand  in  no  fear  of  a 
worse  devil  than  you  are,  and  I  am  quite  willing  to 
leave  you  at  any  time,  and  try  any  other  place ; 
Aven  hell  itself  cannot  be  worse.  I  cannot  suffer 
more  there  than  I  have  here."  **  Daughter,"  ex- 
claimed the  priest,  with  affected  sympathy,  ^  must 
I  give  you  up?  How  can  I  see  you  go  down  to 
perdition  ?  It  is  not  yet  too  late.  Confess  your 
sins  and  repent."  <'  I  have  already  confessed  my 
sins  to  God,  and  I  shall  confess  to  no  one  else. 
He  alone  can  save  me."  Her  manner  of  saying 
this  was  solemn  but  very  decided.  The  priest  saw 
that  she  would  not  yield  to  his  wishes,  and  raising 
his  voice,  he  exclaimed,  "  Then  let  the  devil  take 
youk" 

Immediately  the  door  opened,  and  a  figure  rep- 
resenting the  Roman  Catholic  idea  of  his  Satanic 
Majesty  entered  the  room.  He  was  very  black, 
and  covered  with  long  hair,  probably  the  skin  of 
some  wild  animal.  He  had  two  long  white  tusks, 
two  horns  on  his  head,  a  large  cloven  foot,  and  a 
long  taU  that  he  drew  after  him  on  the  floor.    He 

8  k> 


86 


LIFE  IN  THE  OBEY  NUNNERY. 


looked  so  frightful,  and  recalled  to  my  mind  so 
vividly  the  figure  that  I  taw  at  the  White  Nunnery^ 
that  I  was  very  much  Mghtened ;  still  I  did  not 
believe  it  was  really  a  supernatural  being.  I  bus* 
pected  that  it  was  one  of  the  priests  dressed  up  in 
that  way  to  frighten  us,  and  I  now  know  that  such 
was  the  fact.  But  what  of  that?  We  all  feared 
the  priests  quite  as  much  as  we  should  the  Evil 
One  himself,  even  if  he  should  come  to  us  in  bod- 
ily shape,  as  they  pretended  he  had  done.  Mosi 
of  the  nuns  were  very  much  frightened  when  they 
saw  that  figure  walk  up  to  the  bedside,  taking 
good  care,  however,  to  avoid  the  priest,  he  being  so 
very  holy  it  was  impossible  for  an  evil  spirit  to  go 
near  or  even  look  at  him* 

The  priest  then  ordered  us  to  return  to  the  kitoheui 
for  said  he,  ^  The  devil  has  come  for  this  nun's 
soul,  and  will  take  it  with  him,''  As  we  left  the 
room  I  looked  around  on  my  oompanions  and 
wondered  if  they  believed  this  absurd  stoiy%  I 
longed  to  ask  them  what  they  thought  of  it|  bat 
this  was  not  allowed.  All  interchange  of  thought 
or  feeling  being  strictly  forbidden,  we  never  ven* 
tured  to  speak  without  permission  when  so  many 
«f  us  were  present,  for  some  one  was  sure  to  tdl 
of  it  if  the  least  rule  was  broken* 

I  was  somewhat  surprised  at  first  that  wo  wcra 
all  sent  to  the  kitchen,  as  but  few  of  us  w^re  em- 
jdoyed  there ;  but  we  were  soon  called  back  again 
to  lode  at  the  corpse*  I  was  iaetpresubly  shocked 
at  this  soaunonSf  for  I  had  not  sni^sed  it  possible 


H 


ONE  REAL  FRIEND. 


87 


for  her  to  die  so  soon.  Bat  she  was  dead ;  and 
that  was  all  we  could  ever  know  about  it.  As  we 
stood  around  the  bed,  the  priest  said  she  was  an 
example  of  those  in  the  world  called  heretics ;  that 
her  soul  was  in  misery,  and  would  remain  so  for- 
ever ;  no  masses  or  prayers  could  avail  her  then, 
for  she  could  never  be  prayed  out  of  hell.  Sins 
like  hers  could  never  be  forgiven. 

I  continued  to  work  in  the  kitchen  as  usual  for 
many  months  after  thb  occurrence,  and  for  a  few 
weeks  the  sick  nun  was  there  a  great  part  of  the 
time.  Whenever  we  were  alone,  and  sure  that  no 
one  was  near,  we  used  to  converse  together,  and  a 
great  comfort  it  was  to  us  both.  I  felt  that  I  had 
found  in  her  one  real  firiend,  to  sympathize  with 
me  in  my  grievous  trials,  and  with  whom  I  could 
sometimes  hold  communication  without  fear  of 
betrayal.  I  had  proved  her,  and  found  her  faithful, 
therefore  I  did  not  fear  to  trust  her.  No  one  can 
imagine,  unless  they  know  by  experience,  how 
much  pleasure  we  enjoyed  in  the  few  stolen  mo- 
ments that  we  spent  together. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  last  conversatioi!  I  had 
with  her.  She  came  and  sat  down  where  I  was 
assisting  another  nun  to  finish  a  mat.  She  asked 
us  if  we  knew  what  was  going  on  in  the  house. 
«  As  I  came  from  my  room,"  said  she, « I  saw  the 
priests  and  Superiors  running  along  the  halls,  and 
they  appeared  so  much  excited,  I  thought  some- 
thing must  be  wrong.  As  they  passed  me,  they 
told  me  to  go  to  the  kitchen,  and  stay  there.   What 


It 


88 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUimERT. 


does  it  all  mean  ?  "  Of  course  we  did  not  know, 
for  we  had  neither  seen  or  heard  anything  unusual. 
*'  Well,"  said  she,  **  they  are  all  so  much  engaged 
up  stairs,  we  can  talk  a  little  and  not  be  over- 
heard. I  want  to  know  something  about  the  peo- 
ple in  the  world.  Are  they  really  cruel  and  cold- 
hearted,  as  the  priests  say  they  are  ?  When  you 
was  in  the  world  were  they  unkind  to  you  ?  "  "  On 
the  contrary,''  I  replied,  **  I  would  gladly  return  to 
them  again  if  I  could  get  away  from  the  convent 
I  should  not  be  treated  any  worse,  at  all  events, 
and  I  shall  embrace  the  first  opportunity  to  go 
back  to  the  world."  "  That  is  what  I  have  always 
thought  since  I  was  old  enough  to  think  at  all," 
said  she,  "  and  I  have  resolved  a  great  many  times 
to  get  away  if  possible.  I  suppose  they  tell  us 
about  the  cruelty  in  the  world  just  to  frighten  us, 
and  prevent  us  from  trying  to  escape.  I  am  so 
weiiik  now  I  do  not  suppose  I  could  walk  out  of 
Montreal  even  if  I  should  leave  the  convent.  But 
if  I  ever  get  strong  enough,  I  shall  certainly  try  to 
escape  from  this  horrible  place.  O,  I  could  tell 
you  things  about  this  convent  that  would  curdle 
the  blood  in  your  veins." 

The  other  nun  said  that  she  had  been  once  in 
the  world,  and  every  one  was  kind  to  her.  "  I  shall 
try  to  get  out  again,  some  day,"  said  she,  *<butwe 
must  keep  our  resolutions  to  ourselves,  for  there  is 
no  one  here,  that  we  can  trust.  Those  whom  we 
think  our  best  friends  will  betray  us,  if  we  give 
them  a  chance.  I  do  believe  that  some  of  them 
delight  in  getting  us  punished." 


r- 


PLANS  AND  RESOLUTIONS. 


The  sick  nun  said,"!  have  never  exposed  any 
one  and  I  never  will.  I  have  the  secretB  of  a  great 
nany  hid  in  my  breast,  that  nothing  shall  ever 
extort  from  me."  Here  she  was  interrupted,  and 
soon  left  the  room.  I  never  saw  her  again. 
Whether  she  was  under  punishment,  or  was  no 
fortunate  as  to  make  her  escape,  I  do  not  know. 
As  no  questions  could  be  jMked,  it  was  very  little 
we  could  know  of  each  other.  If  one  of  our  number 
escaped,  the  fact  was  carefully  concealed  from  the 
rest,  and  if  she  was  caught  and  brought  back,  no 
one  ever  knew  it,  except  those  who  had  charge  of  her. 
The  other  nun  who  worked  in  the  room  with  me, 
watched  me  very  closely.  Having  heard  me  dedare 
my  intention  to  leave  the  first  opportunity,  she 
determined  to  go  with  me  if  possible. 


I 


! 


■     ) 


r 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE  JOY  OF  FREEDOM. 


At  length  the  long  sought  opportunity  airived, 
and  with  the  most  extatic  joy  we  tied  from  the 
nunnery.  The  girl  I  have  before  mentioned,  who 
wished  to  go  with  me,  and  another  nun,  with  whom 
I  had  no  acquaintance,  were  left  in  the  kitchen  to 
assist  me,  in  taking  charge  of  the  cooking,  while 
the  rest  of  the  people  were  at  mass  in  the  chapel. 
A  chance  presented  for  us  to  get  away,  and  we  all 
'  fled  together,  leaving  the  cooking  to  take  care  of 
itself.  We  were  assisted  to  get  out  of  the  yard, 
but  how,  or  by  whom,  I  can  never  reveaL  Death, 
in  its  most  terrible  form  would  be  the  punishment 
for  such  an  act  of  kindness,  and  knowing  this,  it. 
would  be  the  basest  ingratitude  for  me  to  name  the 
individual  who  so  kindly  assisted  us  in  our  peri- 
lous undertaking. 

How  well  do  I  remember  the  emotions  that 
thrilled  my  soul  when  I  found  myself  safely  out- 
side the  walls  of  that  fearful  prison!  The  joy  of 
freedom — the  hope  of  ultimate  success — the  fear 
of  being  overtaken,  and  dragged  back  to  misery  or 
death,  were  considerations  sufficiently  exciting  to 
agitate  our  spirits,  and  lend  fleetness  to  our  steps. 


TERRIBLE  DILEMMA. 


91 


With  trembling  limbs,  and  throbbing  hearts  we  fled 
towards  the  St.  Lawrence  river.  Following  the 
tow-path,  we  hastened  on  for  a  few  miles,  when 
one  of  the  nuns  became  exhausted,  and  said  she 
could  go  no  further.  She  was  very  weak  when  we 
started,  and  the  excitement  and  fatigue  produced 
serious  illness.  What  should  we  do  with  her? 
We  could  not  take  her  along  with  us,  and  if  we 
stopped  with  her,  we  might  sdl  be  taken  and  carried 
back.  Must  we  leave  her  by  the  way-side  ?  It 
was  a  fearful  alternative,  but  what  else  could  -je 
do  ?  With  sad  hearts  we  took  her  to  a  shed  near 
by,  and  there  we  left  her  to  her  fate,  whatever  it 
might  be ;  perchance  to  die  there  alone,  or  what  was 
still  worse,  be  carried  back  to  the  convent.  It  was 
indeed,  a  sorrowful  parting,  and  we  wept  bitter 
tears  together,  as  we  bade  her  a  last  fareweU.  I 
never  saw  or  heard  from  her  again. 

We  pursued  our  way  along  the  tow-path  for  a 
short  distance,  when  the  canal  boat  came  along. 
•We  asked  permission  to  go  upon  the  boat,  and  the 
captain  kindly  granted  it,  but  desired  us  to  be  very 
still.  He  carried  us  twelve  miles,  and  then  pro- 
posed to  leave  us,  as  he  exposed  himself  to  a  heavy 
fine  by  carrying  us  without  a  pass j*apd  unattended 
by  a  priest  or  Superior.  We  begged  him  to  take 
us  as  far  as  he  went  with  the  boat,  and  frankly  told 
him  our  situation.  Having  no  money  to  offer,  we 
could  only  cast  ourselves  on  his  mercy,  and  implore 
his  pity  and  assistance.  He  consented  to  take  us 
as  far  as  the  village  of  Beauhamois,  and  there  he 


■•»> 


92 


LIFE  IN  THE  GRET  NUNNERY. 


left  US.  He  did  not  dare  take  us  further,  lest  some 
one  might  be  watching  for  us,  and  find  us  on  his 
boat. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  we  left 
the  boat,  but  it  was  a  Roman  Catholic  village,  and 
we  did  not  dare  to  stop.  All  that  day  we  pursued 
our  way  without  food  or  drink,  and  at  night  we 
were  tired  and  hungry.  Arriving  at  a  small  village, 
we  ventured  to  stop  at  the  most  respectable  look- 
ing house,  and  asked  the  woman  if  she  could  keep 
us  over  night.  She  looked  at  us  very  attentively 
and  said  she  could  not.  We  did  not  dare  to  call 
again,  for  we  knew  that  we  were  surrounded  by 
those  who  would  think  they  were  doing  a  good 
work  to  deliver  us  up  to  the  priests.  Darimess 
came  over  the  earth,  but  still  weary  and  sleepy  as 
we  were,  we  pursued  our  lonely  way.  I  will  not 
repeat  our  bitter  reflections  upon  a  cold  hearted 
world,  but  the  reader  will  readily  imagine  what 
they  were. 

Late  in  the  evening,  we  came  to  an  old  bam. 
I  think  it  must  have  been  four  or  five  miles  firom 
the  village.  There  was  no  house,  or  other  building 
near  it,  and  as  no  person  was  in  sight,  we  ventured 
to  enter.  Here,  to  our  great  joy,  we  found  a  quan- 
tity of  clean  straw,  with  which  we  soon  prepared 
a  comfortable  bed,  where  we  could  enjoy  the  lux- 
ury of  repose.  We  slept  quietly  through  the  night, 
and  at  the  early  dawn  awoke,  refireshed  and 
encouraged,  but  O,  so  hungry!  Gladly  would  we 
have  eaten  anything  in  the  shape  of  food,  but  noth- 
ing could  we  find. 


TIMELY  Al  ». 


93 


The  morning  star  was  yet  shining  brightly  above 
us,  as  we  again  started  on  our  journey.  At  length 
our  hearts  were  cheered  by  the  sight  of  a  village. 
The  first  house  we  came  to  stood  at  some  dis- 
tance from  the  other  buildings,  and  we  saw  two 
women  in  a  yard  milking  cows.  We  called  at  the 
door,  and  asked  the  lady  for  some  milk.  "  O  yes," 
said  she,  with  a  sweet  smile,  "  come  in,  and  rest 
awhile,  and  you  shall  have  all  you  want."  She 
thought  we  were  Sisters  of  Charity,  for  they  often 
go  about  visiting  the  sick,  and  praying  with  the 
people.  It  is  considered  a  very  meritorious  act  to 
render  them  assistance,  and  speed  them  on  their 
way ;  but  to  help  a  runaway  nun  is  to  commit  a 
crime  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  draw  down  the 
anathema  of  the  church.  Therefore,  while  we 
carefully  concealed  our  real  character,  we  grate- 
fully accepted  the  aid  we  so  much  needed,  but 
which,  we  were  sure  would  have  been  withheld 
had  she  known  to  whom  it  was  offered.  After 
waiting  till  the  cows  were  milked,  and  she  had 
finished  her  own  breakfast,  she  filled  a  large 
earthen  pan  with  bread  and  milk,  gave  each  of  us 
a  spoon,  and  we  ate  as  much  as  we  wished.  As 
we  arose  to  depart,  she  gave  each  of  us  a  large 
piece  of  bread  to  carry  with  us,  and  asked  us  to 
pray  with  her.  We  acccordingly  knelt  in  prayer ; 
implored  heaven's  blessing  on  her  household,  and 
then  took  our  leave  of  this  kind  lady,  never  more 
to  meet  her  on  earth ;  but  she  will  never  te  fc^T- 
gotten. 


•\£^ 


WV  i»g*i  i  m»i»  m  una  i«  n 


iij? 


94 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


That  day  we  traveled  a  long  distance,  at  least, 
BO  it  seemed  to  us.  When  nearly  overcome  with 
fatigue,  we  saw  from  the  tow-path  an  island  in 
the  river,  and  upon  it  a  small  house.  Near  the 
shore  a  man  stood  beside  a  canoe.  We  made 
signs  to  him  to  come  to  us,  and  he  immediately 
sprang  into  his  canoe  and  came  over.  We  asked 
him  to  take  us  to  the  island,  and  he  cheerfully 
granted  our  request,  but  said  we  must  sit  very  still, 
or  we  would  find  ourselves  in  the  water.  I  did 
not  w>nder  he  thought  so,  for  the  canoe  was  very 
small,  and  the  weight  of  three  persons  sank  it 
almost  even  with  the  surface  of  the  river,  while 
the  least  motion  would  cause  it  to  roll  firom  side  to 
side,  so  that  we  really  felt  that  we  were  in  danger 
of  a  very  uncomfortable  bath  if  nothing  worse. 

We  landed  safely,  however,  and  were  kindly 
welcomed  by  the  Indian  family  in  the  house.  Six 
squaws  were  sitting  on  the  floor,  some  of  them 
smoking,  others  making  shoes  and  baskets.  They 
were  very  gayly  dressed,  their  skirts  handsomely 
embroidered  with  beads  and  silk  of  various  colors. 
One  of  the  girls  seemed  very  intelligent,  and  con- 
versed fluently  in  the  English  language  which  she 
spoke  correctly.  But  she  did  not  look  at  all  like 
an  Indian,  having  red  hair  and  a  lighter  skin  than 
the  others.  She  was  the  only  one  in  the  family 
that  I  could  converse  with,  as  the  rest  of  them 
spoke  only  their  native  dialect ;  but  the  nun  who 
was  with  me  could  speak  both  French  and  Indian. 

They  treated  us  with  great  kindness,  gave  us 


STARTLING  INFORMATION. 


W^ 


food,  and  invited  us  to  stay  and  live  with  them ; 
said  we  could  be  very  happy  there,  and  to  induce 
us  to  remain,  they  informed  us  that  the  village  we 
saw  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  called  St.  Regis, 
was  inhabited  by  Indians,  but  they  were  all  Roman 
Catholics.  They  had  a  priest,  and  a  church  where 
we  could  go  to  Mass  every  Sabbath.  Little  did 
they  imagine  tJiat  we  were  fleeing  for  life  from  the 
Romish  priests ;  that  so  far  from  being  an  induce- 
ment to  remain  with  them,  this  information  was 
the  very  thing  to  send  us  on  our  way  with  all  pos- 
sible speed.  We  did  not  dare  to  stay,  for  I  knew 
full  well  that  if  any  one  who  had  seen  us  went  to 
confession,  they  woidd  be  obliged  to  give  informa- 
tion of  our  movements ;  and  if  one  priest  heard  of 
us,  he  would  immediately  telegraph  to  all  the 
(Hiests  in  the  United  States  and  Canada,  and  we 
should  be  watched  on  every  side.  Escape  would 
then  be  nearly  impossiUe,  therefore  we  gently,  but 
firmly  refused  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  these 
good  people,  and  hastened  to  bid  them  farewell. 

I  asked  the  girl  how  far  it  was  to  the  United 
States.  She  said  it  was  two  miles  to  Hogansburg, 
and  that  was  in  the  States.  We  then  asked  the 
man  to  take  us  in  his  canoe  to  the  village  of  St. 
Regis  on  the  other  side  of  the  ilver.  He  con- 
sented, but,  I  tiiought,  with  some  lelactance,  a^d 
before  he  allowed  us  to  land,  he  conversed  some 
minutes  with  the  Indians  who  met  him  on  the 
shore.  We  could  not  hear  what  they  said,  but  my 
fears  were  at  once  awakened*    I  bought  thpy  sus- 


'[■miff' 


96 


LIFE  IN  tHE  GRET  NUKNERT. 


pected  US,  and  if  so,  we  were  lost.  But  the  man 
came  back  at  length,  and  assisted  us  from  the 
boat.  If  he  had  any  suspicions  he  kept  them  to 
himself. 

Soon  after  we  reached  the  shore  I  met  a  man, 
of  whom  I  enquired  when  a  boat  would  start  for 
Hogansburg.  He  gazed  at  us  a  moment,  and  then 
pointed  to  five  boats  out  in  the  river,  and  said  those 
were  the  last  to  go  that  day.  They  were  then 
ready  to  start,  and  waited  only  for  the  tow-boat  to 
take  them  along.  But  they  were  so  far  away  we 
could  not  get  to  them,  even  if  we  dared  risk  our- 
selves among  so  many  passengers.  What  could 
we  do  ?  To  stay  there  over  night,  was  not  to  be 
thought  of  for  a  moment.  We  were  sure  to  be 
taken,  and  carried  back,  if  we  ventured  to  try  it 
Yet  there  was  but  one  alternative ;  either  remain 
there  till  the  next  day,  or  try  to  get  a  passage  on 
the  tow-boat.  It  did  not  take  me  a  long  time  to 
decide  for  myself,  and  I  told  the  nun  that  I  should 
go  on,  if  the  captain  would  take  me!  **  What! 
go  on  the  tow-boat ! "  she  exclaimed,''  «  There  are 
no  ladies  on  that  boat,  and  I  do  not  like  to  go  with 
so  many  men."  *<  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  men,"  I 
replied,  "  if  they  are  not  Romanists,  and  I  am 
resolved  to  go."  "  Do  not  leave  me,"  she  cried, 
with  streaming  tears.  "  lam  sure  we  can  get  along 
better  if  we  keep  together,  but  I  dare  not  go  on 
the  boat."  "  And  I  dare  not  stay  here,"  said  I,  and 
BO  we  parted.  I  to  pursue  my  solitary  way,  she  to 
go,  I  know  not  whither.    I  gave  her  the  parting 


THE  KIND  CAPTAIN. 


97 


hand,  and  have  never  heard  from  her  since,  but  I 
hope  she  succeeded  better  than  I  did,  in  her  efforts 
to  escape. 

I  went  directly  to  the  captain  of  the  boat  and 
asked  him  if  he  could  carry  me  to  the  States.  He 
said  he  should  go  as  far  as  Ogdensburg,  and  would 
carry  me  there,  if  I  wished ;  or  he  pould  set  me 
off  at  some  place  where  he  stopped  for  wood  and 
water.  When  I  told  him  I  had  no  money  to  pay 
him,  he  smiled,  and  asked  if  I  was  a  run-a-way. 
I  frankly  confessed  that  I  was,  for  I  thought  it  was 
better  for  me  to  tell  the  truth  than  to  try  to  deceive. 
**  Well,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  will  not  betray  you ; 
but  you  had  better  go  to  my  state-room  and  stay 
thne.  I  thanked  him,  but  said  I  would  rather  stay 
where  I  was.  He  then  gave  me  the  key  to  his 
room,  and  advised  me  to  go  in  and  lock  the  door, 
"  for,"  said  he, "  we  are  not  accustomed  to  have 
ladies  in  this  boat,  and  the  men  may  annoy  you. 
You  will  find  it  more  pleasant  and  comfortable  to 
stay  there  alone."  Truly  grateful  for  his  kindness, 
and  happy  to  escape  from  the  gaze  of  the  men,  I 
followed  his  direction ;  nor  did  I  leave  the  room 
again  until  I  left  the  boat.  The  captain  brought 
me  my  meals,  but  did  not  attempt  to  enter  the 
room.  There  was  a  small  window  with  a  spring 
on  the  inside;  he  would  come  and  tap  on  the  win- 
dow, and  ask  me  to  raise  it,  when  he  would  hand 
me  a  waiter  on  which  he  had  placed  a  variety  of 
refreshments,  and  immediately  retire. 


iM  I   ; 


CHAPTER  XII. 


STRANGER  IN  A  STRANGE  LAND. 


That  night  and  the  next  day  I  suffered  all  the 
horrors  of  sea-sickness ;  and  those  who  have  known 
by  experience  how  completely  it  prostrates  the 
energies  of  mind  and  body,  can  imagine  how  I 
felt  on  leaving  the  boat  at  night.  The  kind- 
hearted  captain  set  me  on  shore  at  a  place  where 
he  left  coal  and  lumber,  a  short  distance  from  the 
village  of  Ogdensburg.  He  gave  me  twelve  and 
half  cents,  and  expressed  regret  that  he  could  do 
no  more  for  me.  He  said  he  could  not  direct  me 
to  a  lodging  for  the  night,  being  a  stranger  in  the 
place,  and  this  the  first  time  he  had  been  on  that 
route.  Should  this  narrative  chance  to  meet  his 
eye,  let  him  know  that  his  kind  and  delicate  atten- 
tions to  a  stranger  in  distress,  are  and  ever  will  be 
remembered  with  the  gratitude  they  so  richly  merit. 
It  was  with  evident  reluctance  that  he  left  me  to 
make  my  way  onward  as  I  could. 

And  now,  reader,  imagine,  if  you  can,  my  situa- 
tion. A  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  and  compara- 
tively a  stranger  to  the  whole  world — alone  in  the 
darkness  of  night,  not  knowing  where  to  seek  a 
shelter  or  a  place  to  lay  my  head ;  exhausted  with 


AN   MiK   OF   MISERY. 


99 


sea-sickness  until  I  felt  more  dead  than  alive,  it 
did  seem  as  though  it  would  be  a  luxury  to  lie 
down  and  die.  My  stockings  and  shoes  were  all 
worn  out  with  so  much  walking,  my  feet  sore,  swol- 
len, and  bleeding,  and  my  limbs  so  stiff  and  lame 
that  it  was  only  by  the  greatest  effort  that  I  could 
step  at  all.  So  extreme  were  my  sufferings,  that 
I  stopped  more  than  once  before  I  reached  the  vil- 
lage, cast  myself  upon  the  cold  ground,  and  thought 
I  could  go  no  further.  Not  even  the  idea  of  being 
run  over  in  the  darkness  by  some  passing  traveller, 
had  power  to  keep  me  on  my  feet.  Then  I  would 
rest  awhile,  and  resolve  to  try  again ;  and  so  I  hob- 
bled onward.  It  seemed  an  age  of  misery  before 
I  came  to  any  house;  but  at  length  my  spirits 
revived  at  the  sight  of  brilliant  lights  through  the 
windows,  and  the  sound  of  cheerful  voices  that  fell 
upon  my  ear. 

And  now  I  thought  my  troubles  over  for  that 
night  at  least.  But  no  j  when  I  asked  permission 
to  stay  over  night,  it  was  coldly  refused.  Again 
and  again  I  called  at  houses  where  the  people 
seemed  to  enjoy  all  the  comforts  and  even  the  lux- 
uries of  life ;  but  their  comforts  were  for  themselves 
and  not  for  a  toil-worn  traveller  like  me.  This  I 
was  made  to  understand  in  no  gentle  manner ;  and 
some  of  those  I  called  upon  were  not  very  partic- 
ular in  the  choice  of  language. 

By  this  time  my  feet  were  dreadfully  swollen, 
and  O !  so  sore  and  stiff,  that  every  step  produced 
the  most  intense  ggony.    Is  it  strange  that  I  felt  as 


f 


nil 


1  I 


If 


100 


LIFE   IN   THE   OREY   NUNNERY. 


though  life  was  hardly  worth  preserving?  I  re- 
solved to  call  at  one  house  more,  and  if  again 
refused,  to  lie  down  by  the  wayside  and  die.  I 
accordingly  entered  the  village  hotel  and  asked  for 
the  landlady.  The  bar-tender  gave  me  a  suspicious 
glance  that  made  me  tremble,  and  asked  my  busi- 
ness. I  told  him  my  business  was  with  the  land- 
lady and  no  other  person.  He  left  the  room  a 
moment,  and  then  conducted  me  to  her  chamber. 

As  I  entered  a  lady  came  forward  to  meet  me, 
D  d  the  pleasant  expression  of  her  countenance  at 
once  won  my  confidence.  She  gave  me  a  cordial 
welcome,  saying,  with  a  smile,  as  she  led  me  to  a 
seat,  "  I  guess,  my  dear,  you  are  a  run-a-way,  are 
you  not  ?  "  I  confessed  that  it  was  even  so ;  that 
I  had  iled  from  priestly  cruelty,  had  travelled  as  far 
as  I  could,  and  now,  weary,  sick,  and  faint  from  long 
fasting,  I  had  ventured  to  cast  myself  upon  her 
mercy.  "  Will  you  protect  me  ?  "  I  asked,  "  and 
are  you  a  Roman  Catholic  ?  "  "  No,"  she  replied, 
*^  I  am  not  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  I  will  protect 
you.  You  seem  to  have  suffered  much,  and  are 
quite  exhausted.  Biit  you  will  find  a  friend  in 
me.  I  will  not  betray  you,  for  I  dislike  the  priests 
and  the  convents  as  much  as  you  do." 

She  then  called  her  little  girl,  and  ordered  a  fire 
kindled  in  another  chamber,  saying  she  did  not  wish 
her  servants  to  see  me.  The  child  soon  returned, 
when  the  lady  herself  conducted  me  to  a  large, 
pleasant  bed-room,  handsomely  furnished  with 
every  convenience,  and  a  fire  in  the  grate.     She 


L\ .  ^ 


KIND  LANDLADY. 


101 


gave  mo  a  seat  in  a  large  easy-chair  before  the 
fire,  sand  went  out,  locking  the  door  after  her.  In 
a  short  time  she  returned  with  warm  water  for  a 
bath,  and  with  her  own  hands  gave  me  all  the 
assistance  I  needed.  As  I  related  the  incidents  of 
the  day,  she  expressed  much  sympathy  for  my  suf- 
ferings, and  said  she  was  glad  I  had  come  to  her. 
She  gave  me  a  cordial,  and  then  brought  me  a 
cup  of  tea  and  other  refre^ments,  of  which  I  made 
a  hearty  supper.  She  would  not  allow  me  to  eat 
all  I  wished ;  but  when  I  had  taken  as  much  as 
was  good  for  me,  she  bathed  my  feet  with  a  heal- 
ing wash,  and  assisted  me  to  bed.  O,  the  luxury 
of  that  soft  and  comfortable  bed!  No  one  can 
realize  with  what  a  keen  sense  of  enjoyment  I  laid 
my  head  upon  those  downy  pillows,  unless  they 
have  suffered  as  I  did,  and  known  by  experience 
the  sweetness  of  repose  after  excessive  toil. 

All  that  night  this  good  lady  sat  beside  my  bed, 
and  kept  my  feet  wet  in  order  to  reduce  the  swell- 
ing. I  was  little  inclined  to  sleep,  and  at  her 
request  related  some  of  the  events  of  my  convent 
life.  While  doing  this,  I  hardly  knew  what  to 
make  of  this  curious  woman.  Sometimes  she 
would  weep,  and  then  she  would  swear  like  any 
pirate.  I  was  surprised  and  somewhat  afraid  of 
her,  she  seemed  so  strange  and  used  such  peculiar 
language.  She  understood  my  feelings  at  once, 
and  immediately  said,  «  You  need  not  be  a£raid  of 
me,  for  I  have  a  kind  heart,  if  I  do  use  wicked 
words.    I  cannot  help  swearing  when  I  think  about 

9* 


% 


* 


102 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


the  priests,  monsters  of  iniquity  that  they  are; 
what  fearful  crimes  they  do  commit  under  the  cloak 
of  religion !  O,  if  the  people  of  this  land  could 
but  see  their  real  character,  they  would  rise  en 
masse  and  drive  them  from  the  country,  whose  lib- 
erties they  will,  if  possible,  destroy.  For  myself  I 
have  good  cause  to  hate  them.  Shall  I  tell  you 
my  story,  dear  ? "  I  begged  her  to  do  so,  which 
she  did,  as  follows : 

"  I  once  had  a  sister,  young,  talented,  beautiful, 
amiable  and  affectionate.  She  was  the  pride  of  all 
Qur  family,  the  idol  of  our  souls.  She  wished  for 
an  education,  and  we  gladly  granted  her  request. 
In  our  zeal  to  serve  her,  we  resolved  to  give  her  the 
very  best  advantages,  and  so  we  sent  her  to  a 
Romish  school.  It  was  a  seminary  for  young 
ladies  taught  by  nuns,  and  was  the  most  popular 
one  in  that  part  of  the  country.  My  .fat her,  like 
many  other  parents  who  knew  such  establishments 
only  by  report,  had  not  the  least  idea  of  its  true 
character.  But  deluded  by  the  supposed  sanctity  of 
the  place,  he  v^^as  happy  in  the  thought  that  he  had 
left  his  darlihg  where  it  was  said  that  *  science  and 
religion  go  hand  in  hand.'  For  a  season,  all  went 
on  well.  She  wrote  to  us  that  she  was  pleased 
with  the  school,  and  wished  to  remain.  We  thought 
her  hand  wrting  wonderfully  improved,  and  eagerly 
looked  forward  to  the  time  when  she  would  return 
to  us  a  finished  scltolar,  as  well  as  an  accomplished 
lady.  But  those  pie  cant  prospects  were  soon  over» 
past.     Too  soon,  -^^j^r  ii»i].py,  bovuidin^  hearts  were 


FALSEHOOD    AND   DECEPTION. 


103 


hu8hf>(I  hy  nnbpeakablc  grief,  and  our  brilliant  anti- 
cipaiions  were  dissipated  in  the  chamber  of  (''"ath. 
In  their  place  came  those  solemn  realities,  the 
shroud,  the  cofRn,  the  hearse  and  the  tomb." 

«  Did  she  die  ?  "  I  asked.  "  Yes,"  replied  the  lady, 
as  she  wiped  away  the  fa^  t  flowing  tears ;  "  Yes,  she 
died.  I  believe  "he  wi.-i  poisoned,  but  we  could  do 
nothing;  we  had  no  proof  She  had  been  long  at 
school  befo;'?  we  sutjiected'the  deception  that  was 
practised  upon  us.  But  at  length  I  went  with  my 
othci  sister  to  see  h<  r,and  the  Superior  informed  us 
that  she  was  ill,  and  could  not  see  us.  We  proposed 
going  to  her  room,  but  to  our  great  surprise  weie 
assured  that  such  a  thing  could  not  be  allowed. 
We  left  with  sad  hearts,  and  soon  called  again.  I 
cannot  describe  my  feelings  when  we  were  coldly 
informed  that  she  did  not  wish  to  see  us.  What 
could  it  mean  ?  Surely  something  must  be  wrong; 
and  we  left  with  terrible  presentiments  of  coming 
evil.  It  came,  ^es,  too  soon  were  our  worst  fears 
realized.  I  called  one  day  resolved  to  see  her  before 
I  left  the  house.  Conceive,  if  you  can,  my  sur- 
prise and  horror,  when  they  told  me  that  rpy  beau- 
tiful, idolized  sister  had  resolved  to  become  a  nun. 
That  she  had  ahready  renounced  the  world,  and 
"ould  ^'^^'  no  iurther  communication  with  her 
relatives.  "  Why  did  I  not  know  this  before  ?  I 
ex.ilaimed."  "  You  know  it  now,"  was  the  cold 
reply.  I  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it,  and  when  I 
told  my  father  what  they  said,  he  went  to  them, 


■■M 


104 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


and  resolutely  demanded  his  child.  At  first  they 
refused  to  give  her  up,  but  when  they  saw  that  his 
high  spirit  was  aroused — that  he  would  not  be 
flattered  or  deceived,  they  reluctantly  yielded  to  his 
demand." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


landlady's  story  continued. 


"  The  poor  girl  was  overjoyed  to  meet  her  friends 
again,  but  how  great  was  our  astonishment  and 
indignation  when  she  informed  us  that  she  had 
never  received  a  single  line  from  home  after  she 
entered  the  school,  nor  did  she  ever  know  that  we 
had  called  to  see  her  until  we  informed  her  of  the 
fact.  Whenever  she  expressed  surprise  that  she 
did  not  hear  from  us,  they  told  her  that  we  had 
probably  forgotten  her,  and  strove  to  awaken  in  her 
mind  feelings  of  indignation,  suspicion  and  ani- 
mosity. Not  succeeding  in  this,  however,  they 
informed  her  that  her  father  had  called,  and  express- 
ed a  wish  that  she  should  become  a  nun ;  that  he  did 
not  think  it  best  for  her  to  return  home  again,  nor 
did  he  even  ask  for  a  parting  interview. 

Confounded  and  utterly  heart-broken,  she  would 
have  given  herself  up  to  uncontrollable  grief  had 
she  been  allowed  to  indulge  her  feelings.  But  even 
the  luxury  of  tears  was  forbidden,  and  she  was 
compelled  to  assume  an  appearance  of  cheerful- 
ness, and  to  smile  when  her  heart-strings  were 
breaking.  We  brought  forward  the  letters  we  had 
received  from  time  to  time  which  we  believed  she 


I 


I 


106 


LTPE   IN  THE   GREY   NUNNERY. 


had  written.  She  had  never  seen  them  before, 
"  and  this,"  said  she,  "  is  not  my  hand-writing." 
Of  this  fact  she  soon  convinced  us,  but  she  said 
she  had  written  letter  after  letter  hoping  for  an 
answer,  but  no  answer  came.  She  said  she  knew 
that  the  Superior  examined  all  the  letters  written 
by  the  young  ladies,  but  supposed  they  were  always 
sent,  after  being  read.  But  it  was  now  plain  to  be 
seen  that  those  letters  were  destroyed,  and  others 
substituted  in  their  place.  * 

*  Raffaele  Ciocci,  formerly  a  Benedictine  Monk,  in  his  "  Narra- 
tive/' published  by  the  American  and  Foreign  Christian  Union, 
relates  a  similar  experience  of  his  own,  when  in  the  Papal  College 
of  San  Bernardo. 

Being  urged  to  sign  "  a  deed  of  humility,"  in  which  he  was  to 
renounce  all  his  property  and  give  it  to  the  college,  he  says,  "  I 
knew  not  what  to  think  of  this  "  deed  of  humility."  A  thousand 
misgivings  filled  my  mind,  and  hoping  to  receive  from  the  notary 
an  explanation  that  would  assist  me  in  fully  comprehending  its 
intention,  I  anxiously  said,  "  I  must  request,  sir,  that  you  will 
inform  me  what  is  expected  from  me.  Tell  me  what  is  this  deed — 
whether  it  be  really  a  mere  form,  as  has  been  represented  to  me, 
or  if Here  the  master  arose,  and  in  an  imperious  tone  inter- 
rupted me,  saying,  —  "Do  not  be  obstinate  and  rebellious,  but 
obey.  I  have  already  told  you  that  when  you  assume  the  habit  of 
the  Order,  the  chapter  '  de  humilitate '  shall  be  explained  to  you. 
In  this  paper  you  have  only  to  make  a  renunciation  of  all  you  pos- 
sess on  earth." 

"  Of  all  I  possess !  And  if  I  renounce  all,  who,  when  I  leave  the 
college,  will  provide  for  me  ? "  The  notary  now  interposed. 
"  That,"  said  he,  "  is  the  point  to  which  I  wish  to  call  your  atten- 
tion, in  advising  you  to  make  some  reservation.  If  you  neglect  to 
do  so,  you  may  find  yourself  in  difficulties,  losing,  as  you  irrevoca- 
bly will,  every  right  of  your  own."  At  these  words,  so  palpable, 
BO  glaring,  the  bandage  fell  from  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  the  abyss  these 
monsters  were  opening  under  my  feet.    "  This  is  a  deception,  a 


FALSEHOOD  AND  FOBGERY. 


107 


"It follows  then,"  said  my  father,  "that  these 
letters  are  forgeries,  and  the  excuses  they  have  so 

horrible  deception,"  I  exclaimed.  "  I  now  understand  the  *  deed  of 
humility,'  but  I  protest  I  will  not  sign  it,  I  will  have  nothing  more 
to  do  with  it."  *•***"  After  spending  two  or  three  hours  in 
bitterness  and  woe,  I  resolved  to  have  recourse  to  my  family.  For 
this  purpose  I  wrote  a  long  letter  to  my  mother,  in  which  I  exposed 
all  the  miseries  of  my  heart,  related  what  had  taken  place  with 
regard  to  the  "deed  of  humility,"  and  begged  of  her  consolation  and 
advice.  I  gave  the  letter  into  the  hands  of  a  servant,  and  on  the 
following  morning  received  a  reply,  in  which  I  was  told,  in  gentle 
terms,  to  be  tranquil, — not  to  resist  the  wishes  of  my  directors, — 
sign  unhesitatingly  any  paper  that  might  b6  required,  for,  when  my 
studies  were  completed,  and  I  quitted  the  college,  the  validity  of 
these  forms  would  cease.  This  letter  set  all  my  doubts  at  rest,  and 
restored  peace  to  my  mind.  It  was  written  by  my  mother,  and  she, 
I  felt  assured,  would  never  deceive  me.  How  could  I  for  one 
moment  imagine  that  this  epistle  was  an  invention  of  my  enemies, 
who  imitated  the  hand-writing  and  affectionate  style  of  my  mother  1 
Some  persons  will  say,  you  might  have  suspected  it.  *  *  I  reply, 
that  in  the  uprightness  of  my  heart,  I  could  not  conceive  such  atro- 
cious wickedness ;  it  appeared  utterly  irreconcilable  with  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  place,  and  with  the  venerable  hoariness  of  persons  dedi- 
cated to  God. 

After  perusing  the  letter,  I  hastened  to  the  master,  declaring  my 
readiness  to  sign  the  "  deed  of  humility."  He  smiled  approvingly 
on  finding  how  well  his  plan  had  succeeded.  The  notary  and  wit- 
nesses were  again  summoned,  and  my  condemnation  written.  The 
good  notary,  however,  pitying  my  situation,  inserted  an  exceptional 
clause  to  the  total  relinquishment  of  my  rights.  *  *  *  *  No 
Sooner  was  this  business  concluded,  than  the  master  commanded  me 
to  write  to  my  parents,  to  inform  them  that  I  bad  signed  the  deed 
of  renunciation,  and  was  willing,  for  the  benefit  of  my  soul,  to 
assume  the  monkish  habit.  He  was  present  when  I  wrote  this  let- 
ter ;  i  was,  therefore,  obliged  to  adopt  the  phrases  suggested  by 
him,  — phrases,  breathing  zeal  and  devotion,  full  of  indifference  to 
the  world,  and  tranquil  satisfaction  at  the  choice  I  had  made.  My 
parents,  thought  I,  will  bb  astonished  when  they  read  this  epistle, 


n 


( 


il 


108 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


i  I 


■  i 


'}': 


often  made  are  base  falsehoods.  A  teacher  of  the 
religion  of  Jesus  Christ  guilty  of  lying  and  forgery ! 
*  O,  my  soul  come  not  thou  into  their  secret ;  unto 
their  assembly  mine  honor  be  thou  not  united.' " 

"  But  we  have  our  darling  home  again,"  said  I, 
"  and  now  we  shall  keep  her  with  us."  Never  shall 
I  forget  the  sweet,  sad  smile  that  came  over  her 
pale  face  as  I  uttered  these  words.  Perchance, 
even  then  she  realized  that  she  was  soon  to  leave 
us,  never  more  to  return.  However  this  may  be, 
she  gradually  declined.  Slowly,  but  surely  she 
went  down  to  the  grave.  Every  remedy  was  tried 
—  every  measure  resorted  to,  that  seemed  to  prom- 
ise relief,  but  all  in  vain.  We  had  the  best  phy- 
sicians, but  they  frankly  confessed  that  they  did 

bat  they  must  perceive  that  the  language  is  not  mine,  so  little  is  it 
in  accordance  with  my  former  style  of  writing! 

Beader,  in  the  course  of  thirteen  months,  only  one,  of  from  fifty 
to  sixty  letters  which  I  addressed  to  my  mother,  was  ever  received 
by  her,  and  that  one  was  this  very  letter.  The  monks,  instead  of 
forwarding  mine,  had  forged  letters  imitating  the  hand-writing,  and 
adopting  a  style  suited  to  their  purpose ;  and  instead  of  consigning  - 
to  me  the  genuine  replies,  they  artfully  substituted  answers  of  their 
own  fabrication.  My  family,  therefore,  were  not  surprised  at  the 
tenor  of  this  epistle,  but  rejoiced  over  it,  and  reputed  me  already  a 
Saint.  They  probably  pictured  me  to  themselves,  on  some  future 
day,  with  a  mitre  on  my  head — with  the  red  cap  —  nay,  perhaps, 
even  wearing  the  triple  crown.  Oh,  what  a  delusion  I  Poor  deceived 
parents  I  You  knew  not  that  your  son,  in  anguish  and  despair,  was 
clashing  his  chains,  and  devouring  his  tears  in  secret ;  that  a  triple 
bandage  was  placed  before  his  eyes,  and  that  he  was  being  draped, 
an  unwilling  victim,  to  the  sacriiice."  Eetuming  home  soon  after, 
Ciocci  rushed  to  his  mother,  and  asked  if  she  had  his  letters.  They 
were  produced ;  when  he  found  that  only  one  had  been  written  by 
him.    The  rest  were  forgeries  of  the  masters. 


HYPOCRICY  AHD  DECEPTION. 


109 


ine,  so  little  is  it 


not  understand  her  disease.  In  a  very  few  months 
after  her  return,  we  laid  our  lovely  and  beloved 
sister  beneath  the  clods  of  the  valley.  Our  good 
old  physician  wept  as  he  gazed  upon  her  cold 
remains.  I  believe  he  thought  she  was  poisoned, 
but  as  he  could  not  prove  it,  he  would  only  have  in- 
jured himself  by  saying  so.  As  for  myself,  I  always 
thought  that  she  knew  too  many  of  their  secrets  to 
be  allowed  to  live  after  leaving  them.  And  now, 
dear,''  she  continued,  "  do  you  think  it  strange  that 
I  hate  the  Romanists  ?  Do  you  wonder  if  I  feel 
like  swearing  when  I  think  of  priests  and  con- 
vents?" * 
Truly,  I  did  not  wonder  that  she  hated  them, 
though  I  could  not  understand  what  benefit  it  coidd 
be  to  swear  about  it;  but  I  did  not  doubt  the  truth 
of  her  story.  How  often,  in  the  convent  from 
which  I  fled,  had  I  heard  them  exult  over  the  suc- 
cess of  some  deep  laid  scheme  to  entrap  the 
ignorant,  the  innocent  and  the  unwary !  If  a  girl 
was  rich  or  handsome,  as  sure  as  she  entered  their 
school,  so  sure  was  she  to  become  a  nun,  unless 
she  had  influential  friends  to  look  after  her  and  res- 
olutely prevent  it.  To  effect  this,  no  means  were 
left  untried.  The  grossest  hypocricy,  and  the 
meanest  deception  were  practised  to  prevent  a  girl 
from  holding  communication  with  any  one  out  of 
the  convent.  No  matter  how  lonely,  or  how  home- 
sick she  might  feel,  she  was  not  allowed  to  see  her 
friends,  or  even  to  be  informed  of  their  kind  atten- 
tions.   So  far  from  this,  she  was  made  td  believe, 

10 


110 


LIFE  IN  THE  GBET  MUNNEB7. 


i|    h 


if  possible,  that  her  relatives  had  quite  forsaken 
her,  while  these  very  relatives  were  boldly  informed 
that  she  did  not  wish  to  see  them.  If  they  wrote 
to  their  friends,  as  they  sometimes  did,  their  letters 
were  always  destroyed,  while  those  received  at 
home  were  invariably  written  by  the  priest  or 
Superior.  These  remarks,  however,  refer  only  to 
those  who  are  rich,  or  beautiful  in  person.  Many 
a  girl  can  say  with  truth  that  she  has  attended  the 
convent  school,  and  no  effort  was  ever  made — no 
inducement  ever  presented  to  persuade  her  to 
become  a  nun.  Consequently,  she  says  that  stories 
like  the  above  are  mere  falsehoods,  reported  to 
injure  the  school.  This  may  be  true  so  far  as  she 
is  concerned,  but  you  may  be  sure  she  has  neither 
riches  nor  beauty,  or  if  possessed  of  these,  there 
was  some  other  strong  reason  why  she  should  be 
an  exception  to  the  general  rule.  Could  she  know 
the  private  history  of  some  of  her  school-mates,  she 
would  tell  a  different  story. 

I  remember  that  while  in  the  convent,  I  was  one 
day  sent  up  stairs  to  assist  a  Superior  in  a  chamber 
remote  from  the  kitchen,  and  in  a  part  of  the  house 
where  I  had  never  been  before.  Returning  alone 
to  the  kitchen,  I  passed  a  door  that  was  partly 
open,  and  hearing  a  slight  groan  within,  I  pushed 
open  the  door  and  looked  in,  before  I  thought  what 
I  was  doing.  A  young  girl  lay  upon  a  bed,  who 
looked  more  like  a  corpse  than  a  living  person. 
She  saw  me,  and  motioned  to  have  me  come  to  her. 

As  I  drew  near  the  bed,  she  burst  into  tears,  and 


x<\ 


A  DRAUGHT  OF   COLD  WATER. 


Ill 


whispered,  "  Can't  you  get  me  a  drink  of  cold 
water  ?"  I  told  her  I  did  not  know,  but  I  would 
try.  I  hastened  to  the  kitchen,  and  as  no  one  was 
present  but  a  nun  whom  I  did  not  fear,  I  procured 
a  pitcher  of  water,  and  went  back  with  it  without 
meeting  any  one  on  the  way.  I  was  well  aware 
that  if  seen,  I  should  be  punished,  but  I  did  not 
care.  I  was  doing  as  I  would  wish  others  to  do  to 
me,  and  truly,  I  had  my  reward.  Never  shall  I 
forget  how  grateful  that  poor  sufferer  was  for  a 
draught  of  cold  water.  She  could  not  teU  how 
many  days  she  had  been  fasting,  for  some  of  the 
time  she  had  been  insensible;  but  it  must  have 
been  several  days,  and  she  did  not  know  how  long 
she  was  to  remain  in  that  condition. 

"  How  came  you  here  ?  "  I  asked,  in  a  whisper ; 
"  and  what  have  you  done  to  induce  them  to  pun- 
ish you  so  ?  "  "  O,"  said  she,  with  a  burst  of  tears, 
and  grasping  my  hand  with  her  pale,  cold  fingers, 
<'  I  was  in  the  school,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  so 
nice  to  be  a  nun !  Then  my  father  died  and  left 
me  all  his  property,  and  they  persuaded  me  to  stay 
here,  and  give  it  all  to  the  church.  I  was  so  sad 
then  I  did  not  care  for  money,  and  I  had  no  idea 
what  a  place  it  is.  I  really  thought  that  the  nuns 
were  pure  and  holy  —  that  their  lives  were  devoted 
to  heaven,  their  efforts  consecrated  to  the  cause  of 
truth  and  righteousness.  I  thought  that  this  was 
indeed  the  'house  of  God,'  the  very  *gate  of 
heaven.'  But  as  soon  as  they  were  sure  of  me, 
they  let  me  know  —  but  you  understand  me ;  you 


i  ' 


li 


4". 


112 


LIFE   IN  THE  ORET  NUNNERT. 


H 


know  what  I  mean  ?  "  I  nodded  assent,  and  once 
more  asked,  "  What  did  you  do  ?  "  "  O,  I  was  in 
the  school,''  said  she,  "  and  I  knew  that  a  friend 
of  mine  was  coming  here  just  as  I  did;  and  I 
could  not  bear  to  see  her,  in  all  her  loveliness  and 
unsuspecting  innocence,  become  a  victim  to  these 
vile  priests.  I  found  an  opportunity  to  let  her 
know  what  a  hell  she  was  coming  to.  'Twas  an 
unpardonable  sin,  you  see.  I  had  robbed  the 
church — committed  sacrilege,  they  said — and  they 
have  almost  killed  me  for  it.  I  wish  they  would 
quitey  for  I  am  sure  death  has  no  terrors  for  me 
now.  God  will  never  punish  me  for  what  I  have 
done.  But  go  ;  don't  stay  any  longer ;  they  '11  kill 
you  if  they  catch  you  here."  I  knew  that  she  had 
spoken  truly  —  they  would  kill  me,  almost,  if  not 
quite,  if  they  found  me  there ;  but  I  must  know  a 
little  more.  "  Did  you  save  your  friend  ?  "  I  asked, 
"  or  did  you  both  have  to  suffer,  to  pay  for  your 
generous  act  ?  "  "  Did  I  save  her  ?  Yes,  thank 
God,  I  did.  She  did  not  come,  and  she  promised 
not  to  tell  of  me.  I  don't  think  she  did ;  but  they 
managed  to  find  it  out,  I  don't  know  how ;  and 
now —  O  God,  let  me  die ! "  I  was  obliged  to  go, 
and  I  left  her,  with  a  promise  to  carry  her  some 
bread  if  I  could.  But  I  could  not,  and  I  never 
saw  her  again.  Yet  what  a  history  her  few  words 
unfolded!  It  was  so  much  like  the  landlady's 
story,  I  could  not  forbear  relating  it  to  her.  She 
seemed  much  interested  in  all  my  convent  adven- 
tures ;  and  In  this  way  we  spent  the  night. 


\  1 


CHAPTER    XIV. 


THE    TWO   SISTERS. 


Next  morning  the  la'dy  informed  me  that  I 
could  not  remain  with  her  in  safety,  but  she  had  a 
sister,  who  lived  about  half  a  mile  distant,  with 
whom  I  could  stop  until  my  feet  were  sufficiently 
healed  to  enable  me  to  resume  my  journey.  She 
then  sent  for  her  sister,  who  very  kindly,  as  I  then 
thought,  acceded  to  her  request,  and  said  I  was  wel- 
come to  stay  with  her  as  long  as  I  wished.  Arrange- 
ments were  therefore  made  at  once  for  my  removal. 
My  kind  hostess  brought  two  large  buffalo  robes 
into  my  chamber,  which  she  wrapped  around  my 
person  in  such  a  way  as  to  shield  me  from  the 
observation  of  the  servants.  She  then  called  one 
whom  she  could  trust,  and  bade  him  take  up  the 
bundle  and  carry  it  down  to  a  large  covered  wagon 
that  stood  at  the  door.  I  have  often  wondered 
whether  the  man  knew  what  was  in  that  bundle 
or  not.  I  do  not  think  he  did,  for  he  threw  me 
across  his  shoulder  as  he  would  any  bale  of  merch- 
andise, and  laid  me  on  the  bottom  of  the  caniage. 
The  two  ladies  then  entered,  laughing  heartily  at 
the  success  of  their  ruse,  and  joking  me  about  my 
novel  mode  of  conveyance.    In  this  manner  we 


10* 


ir 


^s/' 


■Mi 


w 


LP 


1 1  p 


I  lii 


114 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


were  driven  to  the  sister's  residence,  and  I  was 
carried  into  the  house  by  the  servants,  in  the  same 
way.  The  landlady  stopped  for  a  few  moments, 
and  when  she  left  she  gave  me  cloth  for  a  new 
dress,  a  few  other  articles  of  clothing,  and  three 
dollars  in  money.  She  bade  me  stay  there  and 
make  my  dress,  and  on  no  account  venture  out 
again  in  my  nun  dres3.  She  wished  me  success 
in  my  efforts  to  escape,  commended  me  to  the  care 
of  our  heavenly  Father,  and  bade  me  farewell. 
She  returned  in  the  wagon  alone,  and  left  me  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  my  new  hostess. 

This  lady  was  a  very  different  woman  from  her 
sister,  and  I  soon  had  reason  to  regret  that  I  was 
in  her  power.  It  has  been  suggested  to  me  that 
the  two  ladies  acted  in  concert;  that  I  was  removed 
ior  the  sole  purpose  of  being  betrayed  into  the 
minds  of  my  enemies.  But  I  am  not  willing  to 
believe  this.  Dark  as  human  nature  appears  to 
me  —  accustomed  as  I  am  to  regard  almost  every 
oneydth  suspicion — still  I  cannot  for  one  moment 
cherish  a  thought  so  injurious  to  one  who  was  so 
kind  to  me.  Is  it  possible  that  she  could  be  such 
a  hypocrite  ?  Treat  me  with  so  much  tenderness, 
and  I  might  say  affection,  and  then  give  me  up  to 
what  was  worse  than  death  ?  No ;  whatever  the 
reader  may  think  about  it,  I  can  never  believe  her 
guilty  of  such  perfidy.  I  regret  exceedingly  my 
inability  to  give  the  narne  of  this  lady  in  connec- 
tion with  the  history  of  her  good  deeds,  but  I  did 
not  learn  the  name  of  either  sister.     The  one  to 


BETRATED    AND  CAPTURED. 


116 


whom  I  was  now  indebted  for  a  shelter  seemed 
altogether  careless  of  my  interests.  I  had  been 
with  her  but  a  few  hours  when  she  asked  me  to  do 
some  washing  for  her.  Of  course  I  was  glad  to 
do  it ;  but  when  she  requested  me  to  go  into  the 
yard  and  hang  the  clothes  upon  the  line,  I  became 
somewhat  alarmed.  I  did  not  like  to  do  it,  and 
told  her  so ;  but  she  laughed  at  my  fears,  overruled 
all  my  objections,  said  no  one  in  that  place  would 
Lu^ek  to  harm  or  to  betray  me,  and  assured  me  there 
was  not  the  least  danger.  I  at  last  consented  to 
go,  though  my  reason,  judgment,  and  inclination, 
had  I  followed  their  dictates,  would  have  kept  me 
in  the  house.  But  I  did  not  like  to  appear  un- 
grateful, or  unwilling  to  repay  the  kindness  I 
received,  as  far  as  I  was  able ;  still  I  could  not 
help  feeling  that  it  was  an  ungenerous  demai)^ 
She  might  at  least  have  offered  me  a  bonnet  or  ft 
shawl,  as  a  partial  disguise ;  but  she  did  nothing 
of  the  kind. 

When  I  saw  that  I  could  not  avoid  the  exposure 
I  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  it  and  get  through 
as  quickly  as  possible ;  but  my  dress  attracted  a 
good  deal  of  attention,  and  I  saw  more  than  one 
suspicious  glance  directed  towards  me  before  my 
task  was  finished.  When  it  was  over  I  thought 
no  more  about  it,  but  gave  myself  up  to  the  bright 
anticipations  of  future  happiness,  which  now  began 
to  take  possession  of  my  mind. 

That  night  I  retired  to  a  comfortable  bed,  and 
was  soon  lost  to  aU  earthly  cares  in  the  glorious 


f 


i:     i  'I 


116 


LIFE  IN  THB  OBEY  NUNNERY. 


:t     li 


M 


liil 


land  of  dreams.  What  unaUoyed  happiness  I 
enjoyed  that  night !  what  impossible  feats  I  per* 
formed !  Truly,  the  vision  was  bright,  but  a  sad 
awaking  followed.  Some  time  in  the  night  I  was 
aroused  by  the  flashing  of  a  bright  light  from  a 
dark  lantern  suddenly  opened.  I  attempted  to 
rise,  but  before  I  could  realize  where  I  was,  a 
strong  hand  seized  me  and  a  gag  was  thrust  into 
my  mouth.  The  man  attempted  to  take  me  in  his 
arms,  but  with  my  hands  and  feet  I  defended 
myself  to  the  best  of  my  ability.  Another  man 
now  came  to  his  assistance,  and  with  strong  cords 
confined  my  hands  and  feet,  so  that  I  was  entirely 
at  their  mercy.  Perfectly  helpless,  I  could  neither 
resist  nor  call  for  help.  They  then  took  me  up 
and  carried  me  down  stairs,  with  no  clothing  but 
my  night-dress,  not  even  a  shawl  to  shield  me  from 
the  cold  night  air. 

At  the  gate  stood  a  long  covered  wagon,  in 
form  like  a  butchers  cart,  drawn  by  two  horses, 
and  beside  it  a  long  box  with  several  men  standing 
around  it.  I  had  only  time  to  observe  this,  when 
they  thrust  me  into  the  box,  closed  the  lid,  placed 
it  in  the  wagon,  and  drove  rapidly  away.  I  could 
not  doubt  for  a  moment  into  whose  hands  I  had 
fallen,  and  when  they  put  me  into  the  box,  I  wished 
I  might  suffocate,  and  thus  end  my  misery  at  once. 
But  they  had  taken  good  care  to  prevent  this  by 
boring  holes  in  the  box,  which  admitted  air  enough 
to  keep  up  respiration.  And  this  was  the  result  of 
all  |ny  efforts  for  freedom !     After  all  I  had  euf- 


RETURN  TO  MONTREAL. 


117 


fered  in  making  my  escape,  it  was  a  terrible  disap- 
pointment to  be  thus  craelly  betrayed,  gagged, 
bound,  and  boxed  up  like  an  article  of  merchan- 
dise, carried  back  to  certain  torture,  and  perchance 
to  death.  O,  blame  me  not,  gentle  reader,  if  in 
my  haste,  and  the  bitter  disappointment  and 
anguish  of  my  spirit,  I  questioned  the  justice  of 
the  power  that  rules  the  world.  Nor  let  your  vir- 
tuous indignation  wax  hot  against  me  if  I  confess 
to  you,  that  I  even  doubted  the  existence  of  that 
power.  How  often  had  I  cried  to  God  for  help ! 
Why  were  my  prayers  and  tears  disregarded? 
What  had  I  done  to  deserve  such  a  life  of  misery  ? 
These,  and  similar  thoughts  occupied  my  mind 
during  that  lonely  midnight  ride. 

We  arrived  at  St.  Regis  before  the  first  Mass 
in  the  morning.  The  box  was  then  taken  into  the 
chapel,  where  they  took  me  out  and  carried  me 
into  the  church.  I  was  seated  at  the  foot  oLthe 
altar,  with  my  hands  and  feet  fast  bound,  th^ag 
still  in  my  mouth,  and  no  clothing  on,  but  my 
night-dress.  Two  men  stood  beside  me,  and  I 
remained  here  until  the  priest  had  said  mass,  and 
the  people  retired  from  the  church.  He  then  came 
down  from  the  altar,  and  said  to  the  men  beside 
me,  "  Well,  you  have  got  her."  "  Yes  Sir,"  they 
replied,  "  what  shall  we  do  with  her  ?  "  "  Put  her 
on  the  five  o'clock  boat,"  said  he, "  and  let  the 
other  men  go  with  her  to  Montreal.  I  want  you 
to  stay  here,  and  be  ready  to  go  the  other  way  to- 
night"   This  priest  was  an  Indian,  but  he  spoke 


i    ( 


118 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


the  English  language  correctly  and  fluently.  He 
seemed  to  feel  some  pity  for  my  forlorn  condition, 
and  as  they  were  about  to  carry  me  away  he 
brought  a  large  shawl,  and  wrapped  it  around  me, 
for  which  I  was  truly  grateful. 

At  the  appointed  time,  I  was  taken  on  board 
the  boat,  watched  very  closely  by  the  two  men 
who  had  me  in  charge.  There  was  need  enough 
of  this,  for  I  would  very  gladly  have  thrown 
myself  into  the  water,  had  I  not  been  prevented. 
Once  and  again  I  attempted  it,  but  the  men  held 
me  back.  For  this,  I  am  now  thankful,  but  at  that 
time  my  life  appeared  of  so  little  importance,  and 
the  punishments  I  knew  were  in  reserve  for  me 
seemed  so  fearful,  I  voluntarily  chose  <<  strangling 
and  death  rather  than  life.''  The  captain  and  sail- 
ors were  all  Romanists,  and  seemed  to  vie  with 
each  other  in  making  me  as  unhappy  as  possible. 
They  made  sport  of  my  "  new  fashioned  clothing," 
andlKisked  if  I  "  did  not  wish  to  run  away  again?" 
When  they  foun«  I  did  not  notice  them  they  used 
the  most  abusivr  and  scurrilous  language,  mingled 
with  vulgar  a^ci  profane  expressions,  which  may 
not  be  repeated.  The  men  who  had  charge  of  me, 
and  who  should  have  protected  me  from  such 
abuse,  so  far  from  doing  it,  joined  in  the  laugh, 
and  appeared  to  think  it  a  pleasant  amusement  to 
ridicule  and  vex  p.  poor  helpless  fugitive.  May 
God  forgive  them  for  their  cruelty,  and  in  the  hour 
of  their  greatest  need,  may  they  meet  with  the 
kindness  they  refused  to  me. 


I . 


j?-_i 


•  -^•H«kM«r«/iT  r  i  ".(jva***! 


LUDICB0U8  SIGHT. 


119 


At  Lachine  we  changed  boats  and  took  another 
to  Montreal.  When  we  arrived  there,  three  priests 
were  waiting  for  us.  Their  names  I  perfectly 
remember,  but  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  spell  them 
correctly.  Having  never  learned  while  in  the  nun- 
nery, to  read,  or  spell  anything  except  a  simple 
prayer,  it  is  not  strange  if  I  do  make  mistakes, 
when  attempting  to  give  names  from  memory.  I 
can  only  give  them  as  they  were  pronounced. 
They  were  called  Father  Kelly,  Dow,  and  Conroy. 
All  the  priests  were  called  father,  of  whatever  age 
they  might  be. 

As  we  proceeded  firom  the  boat  to  the  Nunnery, 
one  of  the  priests  went  before  us  while  the  others 
walked  beside  me,  leading  me  between  them# 
People  gazed  at  us  as  we  passed,  but  they  did  not 
dare  to  insult,  or  laugh  at  me,  while  in  such  respec- 
table company.  Yet,  methinks  it  must  have  been 
a  ludicrous  sight  to  witness  so  much  parade  for  a 
poor  run-a-way  nun. 


k 


"1 


% 


CHAPTER    XV. 


CHOICE    OF   PUNISHMENTS. 


On  out  arrival  at  the  Nunnery,  I  was  left  alone 
for  half  an  hour.  Then  the  Bishop  came  in  with 
the  Lady  Superior,  and  the  Abbess  who  had 
charge  of  the  kitchen  when  I  left.  The  Bishop 
read  to  me  three  punishments  of  which  he  said,  I 
could  take  my  choice.  First.  —  To  fast  five  days 
IpUi  the  fasting  room.  Second.  —  To  suffer  punish- 
ment in  the  lime  room.  Third. —  To  fast  four 
days  in  the  cell.  As  I  knew  nothing  of  these 
places  except  the  cell,  a  priest  was  directed  to  take 
me  to  them,  that  I  might  see  for  myself,  and  then 
take  my  choice.  At  fiirst,  I  thought  I  did  not  care, 
and  I  said  I  had  no  choice  about  it ;  but  when  I 
came  to  see  the  rooms,  I  was  thankful  that  I  was 
not  allowed  to  abide  by  that  decision.  Certainly, 
J  had  no  idea  what  was  before  me. 

I  was  blindfolded,  and  taken  to  the  lime  room 
first.  I  think  it  must  have  been  situated  at  a  great 
distance  from  the  room  we  left,  for  he  led  me  down 
several  flights  of  stairs,  and  through  long,  low  pas- 
sages, where  it  was  impossible  to  stand  erect.  At 
length  we  entered  a  room  where  the  atmosphere 
seemed  laden  with  hot  vapor.    My  blinder  was 


THE   LIME   ROOM. 


121 


removed,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  pleasant  room 
some  fifteen  feet  square.  There  was  no  furniture 
of  any  kind,  but  a  wide  bench,  fastened  to  the 
wall,  extended  round  three  sides  of  the  room.  The 
floor  looked  like  one  solid  block  of  dark  colored 
marble ;  not  a  crack  or  seam  to  be  seen  in  it,  but 
it  was  clouded,  highly  polished,  and  very  beautiful. 
Around  the  sides  of  the  room,  a  great  number  of 
hooks  and  chains  were  fastened  to  the  wall,  and  a 
large  hook  hung  in  the  center  overhead.  Near  the 
door  stood  two  men,  with  long  iron  bars,  some  two 
inches  square,  on  their  shoulders. 

The  priest  directed  me  to  stand  upon  the  bench, 
and  turning  to  the  men,  he  bade  them  raise  the 
door.  They  put  down  their  bars,  and  I  suppose 
touched  a  concealed  spring,  for  the  whole  floor  at 
once  flew  up,  and  fastened  to  the  large  hook  over 
head.  Surprised  and  terrified,  I  stood  wondering 
what  was  to  come  next.  At  my  feet  yawned  a 
deep  pit,  from  which  arose  a  suflbcating  vapor, 
so  hot,  it  almost  scorched  my  face  and  nearly 
stopped  my  breath.  The  priest  pointed  to  the 
heaving,  tumbling  billows  of  smoke  that  were  roll- 
ing below,  and  asked,  "  How  would  you  like  to  be 
thrown  into  the  lime  ?"  "  Not  at  all,"  I  gasped,  in 
a  voice  scarcely  audible,  "  it  would  burn  me  to 
death."  I  suppose  he  thought  I  was  sufliciently 
frightened,  for  he  bade  his  men  close  the  door. 
This  they  did  by  slowly  letting  down  the  floor,  and 

I  could  see  that  it  was  in  some  way  supported  by 
11 


122 


LIFE  IN   THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


the  chains  attached  to  the  walls  but  in  what  man- 
ner I  do  not  know. 

I  was  nearly  suffocated  by  the  lime  smoke  that 
filled  the  room,  and  though  I  knew  not  what  was 
in  reserve  for  me,  I  was  glad  when  my  blinder  was 
put  on,  and  I  was  led  away.  I  think  we  returned 
the  same  way  we  came,  and  entered  another  room 
where  the  scent  was  so  very  offensive,  that  I  begged 
to  be  taken  out  immediately.  Even  before  my 
eyes  were  uncovered,  and  I  knew  nothing  of  the 
loathsome  objects  by  which  we  were  surrounded, 
I  felt  that  I  could  not  endure  to  breathe  an  atmos- 
phere so  deadly.  But  the  sight  that  met  my  eyes 
when  my  blinder  was  removed,  I  cannot  describe, 
nor  the  sensations  with  which  I  gazed  upon  it.  I 
can  oL'ly  give  the  reader  some  faint  idea  of  the 
place,  which,  they  said,  was  called  the  fasting  room, 
and  here  incorrigible  offenders  fasted  until  they 
starved  to  death.  Nor  was  this  all.  Their  dead 
bodies  were  not  even  allowed  a  decent  biirial,  but 
were  suffered  to  remain  in  the  place  where  they 
died,  until  the  work  of  death  was  complete  and 
dust  returned  to  dust.  Thus  the  atmosphere 
became  a  deadly  poison  to  the  next  poor  victim 
who  was  left  to  breathe  the  noxious  effluvia  of  cor- 
ruption and  decay.  I  am  well  aware  that  my 
reader  will  hardly  p.redit  my  statements,  bilt  I  do 
solemnly  affirm  that  I  relate  nothing  but  the  truth. 
In  this  room  were  placed  several  large  iron  kettles, 
so  deep  that  a  person  could  sit  in  them,  and  many 


#3 


RELICS  OP  THE  DEAD. 


123 


of  them  contained  the  remains  of  human  beings. 

In  one  the  corpse  looked  as  though  it  had  been 

dead  but  a  short  time.     Others  still  sat  erect  in  the 
kettle,  but  the  flesh  was  dropping  from  the  bones. 

Every  stage  of  decay  was  here  represented,  from 

the  commencement,  till  nothing  but  a  pile  of  bones 

was  left  of  the  poor  sufferer. 

Conceive,  if  you  can,  with  what  feelings  I  gazed 
upon  these  disgusting  relics  of  the  dead.  Even 
now,  my  blood  chills  in  my  veins,  as  memory  recalls 
the  fearful  sight,  or  as,  in  sleep,  I  live  over  again 
the  dread  realities  of  that  hour.  Was  I  to  meet  a 
fate  like  this  ?  I  might,  perchance,  escape  it  for 
that  time,  but  what  assurance  had  I  that  I  was  not 
ultimately  destined  to  such  an  end?  These 
thoughts  filled  my  mind,  as  I  followed  the  priest 
from  the  room ;  and  for  a  long  time  I  continued  to 
speculate  upon  what  I  had  seen.  They  called  it 
the  fasting  room;  but  if  fasting  were  the  only 
object,  why  were  they  placed  in  those  kettles,  instead 
of  being  allowed  to  sit  on  chairs  or  benches,  or 
even  on  the  floor  ?  And  why  placed  in  iron  ket- 
tles ?  Why  were  they  not  made  of  wood  ?  It 
would  have  answered  the  purpose  quite  as  well,  if 
fasting  or  starvation  were  the  only  objects  in  view. 
Then  came  the  fearful  suggestion,  were  these  ket- 
tles ever  heated  ?  And  was  that  floor  made  of  stone 
or  iron  ?  The  thought  was  too  shocking  to  be  cher- 
ished for  a  moment ;  but  I  could  not  drive  it  from 
my  mind. 

I  was  again  blindfolded,. and  taken  to  a  place 


y 


■II  e 


tup**!? 


124 


LIFE   IN   THE   GREY   NUNNERY. 


they  called  a  cell.  But  it  was  quite  different 
from  the  one  I  was  in  before.  We  descended  sev- 
eral steps  as  we  entered  it,  and  instead  of  the 
darkness  I  anticipated,  I  found  myself  in  a  large 
room  with  sufficient  light  to  enable  me  to  see  every 
object  distinctly.  One  end  of  a  long  chain  was 
fastened  around  my  waist,  and  the  other  firmly 
secured  to  an  iron  ring  in  the  floor ;  but  the  chain, 
though  large  and  heavy,  was  long  enough  to  allow 
me  to  go  aU  over  the  room.  I  could  not  see  how 
it  was  lighted,  but  it  must  have  been  in  some  arti- 
ficial manner,  for  it  was  quite  as  light  at  night,  as 
in  the  day.  Here  were  instruments  of  various 
kinds,  the  use  of  which,  I  did  not  understand ; 
some  of  them  lying  on  the  floor,  others  attached  to 
the  sides  of  the  room.  One  of  them  was  made  in 
the  form  of  a  large  fish,  but  of  what  material  I  do 
not  know.  It  was  of  a  bright  flesh  color,  and 
fastened  to  a  board  on  the  floor.  If  I  pressed  my 
foot  upon  the  board,  it  would  put  in  motion  some 
machinery  within,  which  caused  it  to  spring  for- 
ward with  a  harsh,  jarring  sound  like  the  rumbling 
of  the  cars.  At  the  same  time  its  eyes  would  roll 
round,  and  its  mouth  open,  displaying  a  set  of  teeth 
so  large  and  long  that  I  was  glad  to  keep  at  a  safe 
distance.  I  wished  to  know  whether  it  would  really 
bite  me  or  not,  but  it  looked  so  frightful  I  did  not 
dare  to  hazard  the  experiment. 

Another  so  nearly  resembled  a  large  serpent,  I 
almost  thought  it  was  one  ;  but  I  found  it  movad 
only  when  touched  in  a  certain  manner.    Then  it 


% 


4 


WHO   HOLDS  THE  KEY? 


125 


] 


would  roll  over,  open  its  mouth,  and  run  out  its 
tongue.  There  was  another  that  I  cannot  describe, 
for  I  never  saw  anything  that  looked  like  it.  It 
was  some  kind  of  a  machine,  and  the  turning  of  a 
crank  made  it  draw  together  in  such  a  way,  that  if 
a  person  were  Once  within  its  embrace,  the  pressure 
would  soon  arrest  the  vital  current,  and  stop  the 
breath  of  life.  Around  the  walls  of  the  room  were 
chains,  rings  and  hooks,  almost  innumerable ;  but  I 
did  not  know  their  use,  and  feared  to  touch  them. 
I  believed  them  all  to  be  instruments  of  torture, 
and  I  thought  they  gave  me  a  long  chain  in  the 
hope  and  expectation  that  my  curiosity  would  lead 
me  into  some  of  the  numerous  traps  the  room  con- 
tained. 

Every  morning  the  figure  I  had  seen  beside  the 
dying  nun,  which  they  called  the  devil,  came  to  my 
cell,  and  unlocking*  the  door  himself,  entered,  and 
walked  around  me,  laughing  heartily,  and  seeming 
much  pleased  to  find  me  there.  He  would  blow 
white  firoth  from  his  mouth,  but  he  never  spoke  to 
me,  and  when  he  went  out,  he  locked  the  door  after 
him  and  took  away  the  key.  He  was,  in  fact,  very 
thoughtful  and  prudent,  but  it  will  be  long  before  I 
believe  that  he  came  as  they  pretended,  from  the  spirit 
world.  So  far  from  being  frightened,  the  incident 
was  rather  a  source  of  Mmusement.  Such  ques- 
tions as  the  following  would  force  themselves  upon 
my  mind.  K  that  image  is  really  the  devil,  where 
did  he  get  that  key  ?  And  what  will  he  do  with 
it  ?    Does  the  devil  hold  the  keys  of  this  nunnery, 


!i 


126 


LIFE  IN  THE  6RET  NUNNERY. 


SO  that  he  can  come  and  go  as  he  pleases  ?  Or, 
are  the  priests  on  such  friendly  terms  with  his 
Satanic  majesty  that  they  lend  him  their  keys  ?  Or, 
do  they  hold  them  as  partners  ?  Gentlemen  of  the 
Grey  Nunnery,  please  tell  us  how  it  is  about  those 
keys. 


?il- 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


HORRORS    OF   STARVATION. 


One  day  a  woman  came  into  my  cell,  dressed  in 
white,  a  white  cap  on  her  head,  and  so  very  pale 
she  looked  more  like  a  corpse  than  a  living  person. 
She  came  up  to  me  with  her  mouth  wide  open,  and 
stood  gazing  at  me  for  a  moment  in  perfect  silence. 
She  then  asked, "  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  "  Into 
the  world,"  I  replied.  "  How  did  you  like  the 
world  ?  "  "  Very  well,"  said  I.  She  paused  a 
moment,  and  then  asked,  "Did  you  find  your 
faends?"  «No,  ma'am,"  said  I,  "I  did  not." 
Another  pause,  and  then  she  said,  "  Perhaps  you 
will  if  you  go  again."  "  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  shall 
not  try  again.''  "  You  had  better  try  it  once  more," 
she  added,  and  I  thought  there  was  a  slight  sneer 
in  her  tone;  "Perhaps  you  may  succeed  better 
another  time."  "  No,"  I  replied,  "  I  shall  not  try 
to  run  away  from  the  nunnery  again.  I  should 
most  assuredly  be  caught  and  brought  back,  and 
then  they  would  make  me  suffer  so  much,  I  assure 
you  I  shall  never  do  it  again."  She  looked  at  ma 
a  moment  as  though  she  would  read  my  very  soul, 
and  said,  "  And  so  you  did  not  find  your  friends, 
after  all,  did  you  ?  "    I  again  told  her  that  I  did  not, 


128 


LIFE  IN  THE  OBEY  NUNNERY, 


/  '  If 


and  she  seemed  satisfied  with  the  resnlt  of  her  ques- 
tioning. When  she  came  7n,  I  was  pleased  to  see 
her,  and  thought  I  would  ask  her  for  something  to 
eat,  or  at  least  for  a  little  cold  water.  But  she 
seemed  so  cold-hearted,  so  entirely  destitute  of  sym- 
pathy or  kind  feeling,  I  had  no  courage  to  speak  to 
her,  for  I  felt  that  it  would  do  no  good.  Perhaps  I 
misjudged  her.  I  knew  from  her  looks  that  she 
must  have  been  a  great  sufferer ;  but  I  have  heard 
it  said  that  extreme  suffering  sometimes  hardens 
instead  of  softening  the  heart,  and  I  believe  it.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  this  woman  had  suffered  so 
much  herself,  that  every  kind  feeling  was  crushed 
out  of  her  soul.  I  was  glad  when  she  left  me,  lock- 
ing the  door  after  her. 

Four  days  they  kept  me  in  this  cell,  and  for  five 
days  and  nights  I  had  not  tasted  food  or  drink.  I 
endured  the  most  intolerable  agonies  from  hunger 
and  thirst.  The  suffering  produced  by  hunger, 
when  it  becomes  actual  starvation,  is  far  beyond 
anything  that  I  can  imagine.  There  is  no  other 
sensation  that  can  be  compared  to  it,  and  no  lan- 
guage can  describe  it.  One  must  feel  it  in  order 
to  realize  what  it  is.  The  first  two  days  I  amused 
myself  by  walking  round  my  room  and  trying  to 
conjecture  the  use  to  which  the  various  instruments 
were  applied.  Then  I  became  so  weak  I  could 
only  think  of  eating  and  drinking.  I  sometimes 
fell  asleep,  but  only  to  dream  of  loaded  tables  and 
luxurious  feasts.  Yet  I  could  never  taste  the  lux- 
uries thus  presented.     Whenever  I  attempted  to 


DEATH  A  MERCY. 


129 


do  so,  they  would  be  snatched  away,  or  I  would 
wake  to  find  it  all  a  dream.  Driven  to  a  perfect 
frenzy  by  the  intensity  of  my  sufferings,  I  would 
gladly  have  eaten  my  own  flesh.  Well  was  it  for 
me  that  no  sharp  instrument  was  at  hand,  for  as  a 
last  resort  I  more  than  once  attempted  to  tear  open 
my  veins  with  my  teeth. 

This  severe  paroxysm  passed  away,  and  I  sank 
into  a  state  of  partial  unconsciou&ness,  in  which  I 
remained  until  I  was  taken  out  of  the  cell.  I  do 
not  believe  I  should  have  lived  many  hours  longer, 
nor  should  I  ever  have  been  conscious  of  much 
more  suffering.  With  me  the  "  bitterness  of  death 
had  passed,"  and  I  felt  disappointed  and  almost 
angry  to  be  recalled  to  a  life  of  misery.  I  begged 
them  to  allow  me  to  die.  It  was  the  only  boon  I 
craved.  But  this  would  have  been  too  merciful ; 
moreover,  they  did  not  care  to  lose  my  services  in 
the  kitchen.  I  was  a  good  drudge  for  them,  and 
they  wished  to  restore  me  on  the  same  principle  that 
a  farmer  would  preserve  the  life  of  a  valuable  horse. 

I  do  not  remember  leaving  the  ceU.  The  first 
thing  I  realized  they  were  placing  me  in  a  chair  in 
the  kitchen,  find  allowed  me  to  lean  my  head  upon 
the  table.  They  gave  me  some  gruel,  and  I  soon 
revived  so  that  I  could  sit  up  in  my  chair  and  speak 
in  a  whisper.  But  it  was  some  hours  before  I 
could  stand  on  my  feet  or  speak  loud.  An  Abbess 
waa  i.i  the  kitchen  preparing  bread  and  wine  for 
the  priests  (they  partake  of  these  refreshments  eVery 
day  at  ten  in  the  morning  and  three  in  the  after- 


i; 


130 


MI'H    IN    TIfK   tJRKY    NUNNIIUY. 


noon).  She  brought  a  pailful  of  wine  and  placed 
it  on  the  table  near  me,  and  left  a  glass  standing 
beside  it.  When  she  turned  away,  I  took  the  glass, 
dipped  up  a  little  of  the  wine,  and  drank  it.  She 
saw  me  do  it,  but  said  not  a  word,  and  I  think  she 
left  it  there  for  that  purpose.  The  wine  was  very 
strong,  and  my  stomach  so  weak,  I  soon  began  to 
feel  sick,  and  asked  permission  to  go  to  bed.  They 
took  me  up  in  their  arms  and  carried  me  to  my  old 
room  and  laid  me  on  the  bed.  Here  they  left  me, 
but  the  Abbess  soon  returned  with  some  gruel 
made  very  palatable  with  milk  and  sugar.  I  was 
weak,  and  my  hand  trembled  so  that  I  could  not 
feed  myself;  but  the  Abbess  kindly  sat  beside  me 
and  fed  me  until  I  was  satisfied.  I  had  nothing 
more  to  eat  until  the  next  day  at  eleven  o'clock, 
when  the  Abbess  again  brought  me  some  bread 
and  gruel,  and  a  cup  of  strong  tea.  She  requested 
me  to  drink  the  tea  as  quick  as  possible,  and  then 
ehe  concealed  the  mug  in  which  she  brought  it. 

I  was  now  able  to  feed  myself,  and  you  may  be 
sure  I  had  an  excellent  appetite,  and  was  not  half 
80  particular  about  my  food  as  some  persons  I 
have  since  known.  I  lay  in  bed  till  near  night, 
when  I  rose,  dressed  myself  without  assistance, 
and  went  down  to  the  kitchen.  I  was  so  weak  and 
trembled  so  that  I  could  hardly  manage  to  get 
down  stairs ;  but  I  succeeded  at  last,  for  a  strong 
will  is  r.  wonderful  incentive  to  efficient  action. 

In  the  kitchen  I  met  the  Lady  Superior.  She 
saw  how  weak  I  was,  and  as  she  assisted  me  to  a 


HUMANITY  A  CRIME. 


131 


chair,  she  said,  « I  should  not  have  supposed  that 
you  could  get  down  here  alone.     Have  you  had 
anything  to  eat  to-day  ?  "    I  was  about  to  say  yes, 
but  one  of  the  nuns  shook  her  head  at  me,  and  I 
replied  "  No."    She  then  brought  some  bread  and 
wine,  requesting  me  to  eat  it  quick,  for  fear  some 
of  the  priests  might  come  in  arid  detect  us.    Thus 
I  saw  that  she  feared  the  priests  as  well  as  the  rest 
of  us.    Truly,  it  was  a  terrible  crime  she  had  com- 
mitted !  No  wonder  she  was  afraid  of  being  caught ! 
Giving  a  poor  starved  nun  a  piece  of  bread,  and 
then  obliged  to  conceal  it  as  she  would  have  done 
a  larceny  or  a  murder !    Think  of  it,  reader,  and 
conceive,  if  you  can,  the  state  of  that  community 
where  humanity  is  a  crime  —  where  mercy  is  con- 
sidered   a    weakness    of   which  one  should    be 
lashamed!      If  a  pirate  or  a  highwayman  had 
ibeen  guilty  of  treating  a  captive  as  cruelly  as  I 
was  treated  by  those  priests,  he  would  have  been 
[looked  upon  as  an  inhuman  monster,  and  at  once 
[given  up  to  the   strong  grasp  of  the  law.    But 
twhen  it  is  done  by  a  priest,  under  the  cloak  of 
[religion,  and  within  the  sacred  precincts  of  a  nun- 
tnery,  people  cry  out,  when  the  tale  is  told, "  Impos- 
jsible!"    "What  motive  could  they  have  had?" 
j"  It  cannot  be  true,"  etc.    But  whether  the  state- 
jment  is  believed  or  otherwise,  it  is  a  fact  that  in 
(the  Grey  Nunnery  at  Montreal  the  least  exhibition 
of  a  humane  spirit  was  punished  as  a  crime.     The 
jnun  who  was  found  guilty  of  showing  mercy  to  a 
ifellow-sufferer  was  sure  to  find  none  herself. 


I  ^Jiil-ff"-" 


1^ 


i. 


]\ 


y 

V 


f  ■ 


132 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


From  this  time  I  gained  very  fast,  for  the 
Abbess  saw  how  hungry  I  was,  and  she  would 
either  put  food  in  my  way,  or  give  me  privately 
what  I  wished  to  eat.  In  two  weeks  I  was  able 
to  go  to  work  in  the  kitchen  again.  But  those  I 
had  formerly  seen  there  were  gone.  I  never  knew 
what  became  of  the  sick  nun,  nor  could  I  learn 
anything  about  the  one  who  ran  away  with  me.  I 
thought  that  the  men  who  brought  me  to  St.  Regis, 
were  kept  there  to  go  after  her,  but  I  do  not  know 
whether  they  found  her  or  not.  For  myself,  I 
promised  so  solemnly,  and  with  such  apparent  sin- 
cerity, that  I  would  never  leave  the  nunnery  again, 
I  was  believed  and  trusted.  Had  I  been  kindly 
treated,  had  my  life  been,  even  tolerable,  my  con- 
science would  have  reproached  me  for  deceiving 
them,  but  as  it  was,  I  felt  that  I  was  more  "  sinned 
against,  than  sinning."  I  could  not  think  it  wrong 
to  get  away,  if  the  opportunity  presented,  and  for 
this  I  was  constantly  on  the  watch.  Every  night 
I  lay  awake  long  after  all  the  rest  were  buried  in 
slumber,  tr^xng  to  devise  some  plan,  by  which  I 
could  once  more  regain  my  liberty.  And  who  can 
blame  me  ?  Having  just  tasted  the  sweets  of  free- 
dom, how  could  I  be  content  to  remain  in  servi- 
tude all  my  life  ?  Many  a  time  have  I  left  my  bed 
at  night,  resolved  to  try  to  escape  once  more,  but 
the  fear  of  detection  would  deter  me  from  the 
attempt. 

In  the  discharge  of  my  daily  duties,  I  strove  to 
the  utmost  of  my  ability  to  please  my  employers. 


SCEPTICISM. 


133 


I  so  far  succeeded,  that  for  five  weeks  after  my 
return  I  escaped  punishment.  Then,  I  made  a 
slight  mistake  about  my  work,  though  I  verily 
thought  I  was  doing  it  according  to  the  direction. 
For  this,  I  was  told  that  I  must  go  without  two 
meals,  and  spend  three  days  in  the  torture  room. 
I  supposed  it  was  the  same  room  I  was  in  before, 
but  I  wa3  mistaken.  I  was  taken  into  the  kitchen 
cellar,  and  down  a  flight  of  stairs  to  another  room 
directly  under  it.  From  thence,  a  door  opened  into 
another  subterranean  apartment  which  they  called 
the  torture  room.  These  doors  were  so  con- 
structed, that  a  casual  observer  would  not  be  likely 
to  notice  them.  I  had  been  in  that  cellar  many 
times,  but  never  saw  that  door  until  I  was  taken 
through  it.  A  person  might  live  in  the  nunnery  a 
life-time,  and  never  see  or  hear  anything  of  such 
a  place.  I  presume  those  visitors  who  call  at  the 
school-rooms,  go  over  a  part  of  the  house,  and 
leave  with  the  impression  that  the  convent  is  a 
nice  place,  will  never  believe  my  statements  about 
this  room.  Nor  can  we  wonder  at  their  skepti- 
cism. It  is  exceedingly  difficult  for  pure  minds  to 
conceive  how  any  human  being  can  be  so  fearfully 
depraved.  Knowing  the  purity  of  their  own  inten- 
tions, and  judging  others  by  themselves,  it  is  not 
strange  that  they  regard  such  tales  of  guilt  and 
terror  as  mere  fabrications,  put  forth  to  gratify  the 
curiosity  of  the  wonder-loving  crowd. 

12 


>j0J^IUIf^ 


CHAPTER    XVII. 


THE  TORTURE    ROOM. 


I  REMEMBER  hearing  a  gentleman  at  the  depot 
remark  that  the  very  enormity  of  the  crimes  com- 
mitted by  the  Romanists,  is  their  best  protection. 
"  For,"  said  he,  "some  of  their  practices  are  so 
shockingly  infamous  they  may  not  even  be  alluded 
to  in  the  presence  of  the  refined  and  the  virtuous. 
And  if  the  story  of  their  guilt  were  told,  who 
would  believe  the  tale  ?  Far  easier  would  it  be 
to  call  the  whole  a  slanderous  fabrication,  than  to 
believe  that  man  can  be  so  vile." 

This  consideration  led  me  to  doubt  the  propriety 
of  attempting  a  description  of  what  I  saw  in  that 
room.  But  I  have  engaged  to  give  a  faithful  nar- 
rative of  what  transpired  in  the  nunnery;  and 
shall  I  leave  out  a  part  because  it  is  so  strange 
and  monstrous,  that  people  will  not  believe  it? 
No.  I  will  tell,  without  the  least  exaggeration 
what  I  saw,  heard,  and  experienced.  People  may 
not  credit  the  story  now,  but  a  day  will  surely 
come  when  they  will  know  that  I  speak  the  truth. 

As  I  entered  the  room  I  was  exceedingly 
shocked  at  the  horrid  spectacle  that  met  my  eye. 
I  knew  that  fearful  scenes  were  enacted  in  the 


ip«qp|MWK|f|ik>,  .f»tff  riffinmtiS^'  ■^■m^:: 


WOMAN   ON  THE   RACK. 


135 


subterranean  cells,  but  I  never  imagined  anything 
half  so  terrible  as  this.  In  various  parts  of  the 
room  I  saw  machines,  and  instruments  of  torture, 
and  on  some  of  them  persons  were  confined  who 
seemed  to  be  suffering  the  most  excruciating 
agony.  I  paused,  utterly  overcome  with  terror, 
and  for  a  moment  imagined  that  I  was  a  witness 
to  the  torments,  which,  the  priests  say,  are  endured 
by  the  lost,  in  the  world  of  woe.  Was  I  to 
undergo  such  tortures,  and  which  of  those  infernal 
engines  would  be  applied  to  me  ?  I  was  not  long 
in  doubt.  The  priest  took  hold  of  me  and  put  me 
into  a  machine  that  held  me  fast,  while  my  feet 
rested  on  a  piece  of  *von  which  was  gradually 
heated  until  both  feet  ,  -*  blistered.  I  think  I 
must  have  been  there  iiiieen  minutes,  but  perhaps 
the  time  seemed  long<jr  than  it  was.  He  then 
took  me  out,  put  some  ointment  on  my  feet  and 
left  me. 

I  was  now  at  liberty  to  examine  more  minutely 
the  strange  objects  around  me.  There  were  some 
persons  in  the  place  whose  punishment,  like  my 
own,  was  light  compared  with  others.  But  near 
me  lay  one  old  lady  extended  on  a  rack.  Her 
joints  were  all  dislocated,  and  she  was  emaciated 
to  the  last  degree.  I  do  not  suppose  I  can  describe 
this  rack,  for  I  never  saw  anything  like  it.  It 
looked  like  a  gridiron  but  was  long  enough  for  the 
taTest  man  to  lie  upon.  There  were  large  rollers 
at  each  end,  to  which  belts  were  attached,  with  a 
large  lever  to  drive  them  back  and  forth.    Upon 


136 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


/,. 


this  rack  the  poor  woman  was  fastened  in  such  a 
way,  that  when  the  levers  were  turned  and  the 
rollers  made  to  revolve,  every  bone  in  her  body 
was  displaced.  The »;  the  violent  strain  would  be 
relaxed,  a  little,  and  she  was  so  very  poor,  her  skin 
would  sink  into  the  joints  and  remain  there  till  it 
mortified  and  corrupted. 

It  was  enough  to  melt  the  hardes*  heart  to  wit- 
ness her  agony ;  but  she  bore  it  with  a  degree  of 
fortitude  and  patience,  I  could  not  have  supposed 
possible,  had  I  not  been  compelled  to  behold  it. 
When  I  entered  the  room  she  looked  up  and  said, 
"  Have  you  come  to  release  me,  or  only  to  suffer 
with  me  ?  "  I  did  not  dare  to  reply,  for  the  priest 
was  there,  but  when  he  left  us  she  exclaimed, "  My 
child,  let  nothing  induce  you  to  believe  this  cursed 
religion.  It  will  be  the  death  of  you,  and  that 
death,  will  be  the  death  of  a  dog."  I  suppose  she 
meant  that  they  would  kill  me  as  they  would  a 
^.og.  She  then  asked,  "  Who  put  you  here  ? " 
"  My  Father,"  said  I.  "  He  mast  have  been  a 
brute,"  said  she,  "  or  he  never  could  have  done  it." 
At  one  time  I  happened  to  mention  the  name  of 
God,  when  she  fiercely  exclaimed  with  gestures  of 
contempt, "  A  God !  You  believe  there  is  one,  do 
you?  Don't  you  suffer  yourself  to  believe  any 
such  thing.  Think  you  that  a  wise,  merciful,  and 
all  powerful  being  would  allow  such  a  hell  as  this 
to  exist  ?  Would  he  suffer  me  to  be  torn  from 
friends  and  home,  from  my  poor  cliildren  and  aU 
that  my  soul  holds  dear,  to  be  confined  in  this  den 


WOMAN  ON  THE  BACK. 


137 


of  iniquity,  and  tortured  to  death  in  this  cruel 
manner  ?  No,  O,  no.  He  would  at  once  destroy 
these  monsters  in  human  form ;  he  would  not  suf- 
fer them,  for  one  moment,  to  breathe  the  pure  air 
of  heaven." 

At  another  time  she  exclaimed,  "  O,  my  children ! 
rry  poor  motherless  children!  What  will  become 
of  them  ?  Go  I  of  mercy,  protect  my  children !" 
Thus,  at  one  moment,  she  would  say  there  was  no 
God,  and  the  next,  pray  to  him  for  help.  This  did 
not  surprise  me,  for  she  was  in  such  intolerable 
misery  she  did  not  realizs  what  she  did  say.  Every 
few  hours  the  priest  came  in,  and  gave  the  rollers 

a  turn,  v^hen  her  joints  would  crack  and but  I 

cannot  describe  it.  The  sight  made  me  sick  and 
faint  at  the  time,  as  the  recollection  of  it,  does 
now.  It  seemed  as  though  that  man  must  have 
had  a  heart  of  adamant,  or  he  could  not  have  done 
it.  She  would  shriek,  and  groan,  and  weep,  but  it 
did  not  affect  him  in  the  hast.  He  was  as  calm, 
and  deliberate  as  though  he  had  a  block  of  wood 
in  his  hands,  instead  of  a  human  being.  When  I 
saw  him  coming,  I  once  shook  my  head  at  her,  to 
have  her  stop  speaking ;  but  when  he  was  gone, 
she  said,  *^  Don't  shake  your  head  at  me ;  I  do  not 
fear  him.  He  can  but  kill  me,  and  the  quicker  he 
does  it  the  better.  I  would  be  glad  if  he  would 
put  an  end  to  my  misery  at  once,  b?it  that  would 
be  too  merciful.  He  is  determined  to  kill  me  by 
inches,  and  it  makes  no  difference  what  I  say  to 
him." 

12* 


138 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


ii 


She  hati  no  food,  or  drink,  during  the  three  days 
I  was  there,  and  the  priest  never  spoke  to  her.  He 
brought  me  my  bread  and  water  regularly,  and  I 
would  gladly  have  gi  !i  it  to  that  poor  woman  if 
she  would  have  taken  «  But  she  would  not  accept 
the  offer.  It  would  only  prolong  her  sufferings) 
and  she  wished  to  die.  I  do  not  suppose  she  could 
have  lived,  had  she  been  taken  out  when  I  first  saw 
her. 

In  another  part  of  the  room,  a  monk  was  under 
punishment.  He  was  standing  in  some  kind  of  a 
machine,  with  heavj  weights  attached  to  his  feet, 
and  a  belt  passed  across  his  breast  under  his  arms. 
He  appeared  to  be  in  great  distress,  and  no  refresh- 
ment was  furnished  him  while  I  was  there. 

On  one  side  of  the  room,  I  observed  a  closet 
with  a  "slide  door,"  as  the  nuns  called  them. 
There  were  several  doors  of  this  description  in  the 
building,  so  constructed  as  to  slide  back  into  the 
ceiling  out  of  sight.  Through  this  opening  I  could 
see  an  image  resembling  a  monk ;  and  whenever 
any  one  was  put  in  there,  they  would  shriek,  and 
groan,  and  beg  to  be  taken  out,  but  I  could  not 
ascertain  the  cause  of  their  suffering. 

One  day  a  nun  was  brought  in  to  be  punished. 
The  priest  led  her  up  to  the  side  of  the  room,  and 
bade  her  put  her  fingers  into  some  holes  in  the 
w  U  j  ust  large  enough  to  admit  them.  She  obeyed 
but  immediately  drew  them  back  with  a  loud 
shriek.  I  looked  to  see  what  was  the  matter  with 
her,  and  lo !  every  nail  was  torn  from  her  fingers, 


I  J 


now  WAS  IT   DONE? 


139 


which  were  bleeding  profusely.  How  it  was  done, 
I  do  not  know.  Certainly,  there  was  no  visible 
cause  for  such  a  surprising  effect.  In  all  probabil- 
ity the  fingers  came  in  contact  with  the  spring  of 
some  machine  on  the  other  side,  or  within  the  wall 
to  which  some  sharp  instrument  was  attached.  I 
would  give  much  to  know  just  how  it  was  con- 
structed, and  what  the  girl  had  done  to  subject  her- 
self to  such  a  terrible  and  unheard-of  punishment. 
But  this,  like  many  other  things  in  that  establish- 
ment, was  wrapped  in  impenetrable  mystery.  God 
only  knows  when  the  veil  will  be  removed,  or 
whether  it  ever  will  be  until  the  day  when  all  secret 
things  will  be  brought  to  light. 

When  the  three  days  expired,  I  was  taken  out  of 
this  room,  but  did  not  go  to  work  again  till  my 
feet  were  healed.  I  was  then  obliged  to  assist  in 
milking  the  cows,  and  taking  care  of  the  milk. 
They  had  a  large  number  of  cows,  I  believe  thirty- 
five,  and  dairy  rooms,  with  every  thing  convenient 
for  making  butter  and  cheese.  When  first  directed 
to  go  out  and  milk,  I  was  pleased  with  the  idea,  for 
I  hoped  to  find  and  opportunity  to  escape ;  but  I 
was  again  disappointed.  In  the  cow  yard,  as  else- 
where, every  precaution  was  taken  to  pre\  ^nt  it. 

Passing  out  of  the  main  yard  of  the  convent 
through  a  small  door,  I  found  myself  in  a  small, 
neat  yard,  surrounded  by  a  high  fence,  so  that  noth- 
ing could  be  seen  but  the  sky  overhead.  The  cows 
were  driven  in,  and  the  door  Immediately  locked, 
so  that  escape  from  that  place  seemed  impossible. 


V    \ 


140 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


At  harvest  time,  in  company  with  twenty  other 
nuns,  I  was  taken  out  into  the  country  to  the  resi- 
dence of  the  monks.  The  ride  out  there  was  a 
great  treat,  and  very  much  enjoyed  by  us  all.  I 
believe  it  was  about  five  miles,  through  a  part  of 
the  city  of  Montreal ;  the  north  part  I  think,  but  I 
am  not  sure.  We  stopped  before  a  large  white 
stone  building,  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  large  yard 
like  the  one  at  the  nunnery.  A  beautifrl  walk 
paved  with  stone,  led  from  the  gate  to  the  front 
door,  and  from  thence,  around  the  house.  Within 
the  yard,  there  was  also  a  delightful  garden,  with 
neat,  well  kept  walks  laid  out  in  various  directions. 
Before  the  front  door  there  stood  a  large  cross.  I 
think  I  never  saw  a  more  charming  place;  it 
appeared  to  me  a  perfect  paradise.  I  heard  one  of 
the  priests  say  that  the  farm  consisted  of  four 
hundred  acres,  and  belonged  to  the  nunnery.  The 
house  was  kept  by  two  widow  ladies  who  were 
married  before  they  embraced  the  Romish  faith. 
They  were  the  only  women  on  the  place  previous 
to  our  arrival,  and  I  think  they  must  have  found  it 
very  laborious  work  to  wait  upon  so  many  monks. 
I  do  not  know  their  number,  but  there  was  a  great 
many  of  them,  besides  a  large  family  of  boys,  who, 
I  suppose,  were  being  educated  for  priests  or 
monks. 

Immediately  on  our  arrival  a  part  of  our  number 
were  set  to  work  in  the  fields,  while  the  rest  were 
kept  ill  the  house  to  assist  the  women.  I  hoped  that 
I  might  be  one  of  these  last,  but  disappointment 


i'M 


HARYESTING. 


141 


was  again  my  lot.  I  was  sent  to  the  field  with  the 
others,  and  set  to  reaping ;  a  priest  being  stationed 
near,  to  guard  us  and  oversee  our  work.  We  were 
watched  very  closely,  one  priest  having  charge  of 
two  nuns,  for  whose  safe  keeping  he  was  responsi- 
ble. Here  we  labored  until  the  harvest  was  all 
gathered  in.  I  dug  potatoes,  cut  up  corn  and 
husked  it,  gathered  apples,  and  did  all  kinds  of 
work  that  is  usually  done  by  men  in  the  fall  of  the 
year.  Yet  I  was  never  allowed  to  wear  a  bonnet 
on  my  head,  or  anything  to  shield  me  from  the 
piercing  rays  of  the  sun.  Some  days  the  heat  was 
almost  intolerable,  and  my  cap  was  not  the  least 
protection,  but  they  allowed  me  no  other  covering. 

In  consequence  of  this  exposure,  my  head  soon 
became  the  seat  of  severe  neuralgic  pain,  which 
caused  me  at  times  to  linger  over  my  work.  But 
this  was  not  permitted.  My  movements  were 
immediately  quickened,  for  the  work  must  be  done 
notwithstanding  the  severe  pain.  Every  command 
must  be  obeyed  whatever  the  result. 

At  night  a  part  of  our  number  were  taken  to  the 
nunnery,  and  the  rest  of  us  locked  up  in  our  rooms 
in  the  house.  We  were  not  permitted  to  take  our 
meals  with  the  two  housekeepers,  but  a  table  was 
set  for  us  in  another  room.  One  would  think  that 
when  gathering  the  fruit  we  would  be  allowed  to 
partake  of  it,  or  at  least  to  taste  it.  But  this  was 
not  allowed ;  and  as  a  priest's  eye  was  ever  upon 
us,  we  dare  not  disobey,  however  much  we  might 
wish  to  do  so.    I  used  to  wonder  if  the  two  women 


142 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


who  kept  the  house  were  as  severely  dealt  with  as 
we  were,  but  had  no  means  whereby  to  satisfy  my 
curiosity.  They  were  not  allowed  to  converse 
with  us,  and  we  mi^  ht  not  speak  to  them,  or  even 
look  them  in  the  face.  Here,  as  at  the  nunnery, 
we  were  obliged  to  walk  with  the  head  bent  for- 
ward a  little,  the  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  one  hand, 
if  disengaged,  under  the  cape,  the  other  down  by 
the  side,  and  on  no  occasion  might  we  look  a  per- 
son in  the  face.  The  two  women  seemed  to  be 
governed  by  the  same  rules  that  we  were,  and  sub- 
ject to  the  same  masters.  I  used  to  think  a  great 
deal  about  them,  and  longed  to  know  their  history. 
They  wore  blue  dresses,  with  white  caps,  and  white 
handkerchiefs  on  their  necks.  Their  life,  I  think, 
was  a  hard  one. 


.^- 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

RETURN   TO    THE   NUNNERY. 

While  we  remained  at  this  place  I  was  not 
punished  in  any  of  the  usual  methods.  Perhaps 
they  thought  the  exposure  to  a  burning  sun,  and 
a  severe  headache,  sufficient  to  keep  me  in  subjec- 
tion without  any  other  infliction.  But  immediately 
on  my  return  to  the  nunnery  I  was  again  subjected 
to  the  same  cruel,  capricious,  and  unreasonable 
punishment. 

On  the  first  day  after  my  return  one  of  the  priests 
came  into  the  kitchen  where  I  was  at  work,  and  I 
hastened  to  give  him  the  usual  respectful  saluta- 
tion, which  I  have  before  described.  But  he  took 
hold  of  my  arm  and  said,  "  What  do  you  look  so 
cross  for  ?  "  And  without  giving  me  time  to  reply, 
even  if  I  had  dared  to  do  so,  he  added,  "  I  '11  teach 
you  not  to  look  cross  at  me."  He  left  the  room, 
with  an  expression  of  countenance  that  frightened 
me.  I  was  not  aware  of  looking  cross  at  him, 
though  I  must  confess  I  had  suffered  so  much  at 
his  hands  already,  I  did  not  feel  very  happy  in  his 
presence;  yet  I  always  endeavored  to  treat  him 
with  all  due  respect.  Certainly  his  accusation 
against  me  in  this  instance  was  as  false  as  it  was 


i 


•  I. 


'  t 


1 '  ^v 


i.   i. 


iW 

It 

'n  '' 

ill  i 

H 

BH, 

\i' 

'fl 

„te 

1 

1  ■ 

,\1 

144 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


cruel.  But  what  of  that  ?  I  was  only  a  nun,  and 
who  would  care  if  I  was  punished  unjustly  ?  The 
priest  soon  returned  with  a  band  of  leather,  or 
something  of  the  kind,  into  which  thorns  were 
fastened  in  such  numbers  that  the  inside  was  com- 
pletely covered  with  them.  This  he  fastened 
around  my  head  with  the  points  of  the  thorns 
pressing  into  the  «kin,  and  drew  it  so  tight  that 
the  blood  ran  in  streams  over  my  neck  and  shoul- 
ders. I  wore  this  band,  or  "  crown  of  thorns,"  as 
they  called  it,  for  six  hours,  and  all  the  time  con- 
tinued my  work  as  usual.  Then  I  thought  of  the 
"crown  of  thorns"  our  Saviour  wore  when  he 
gave  his  life  a  ransom  for  the  sins  of  the  world. 
I  thought  I  could  realize  something  of  his  personal 
agony,  and  the  prayer  of  my  soul  went  up  to  heaven 
for  grace  to  follow  his  example  and  forgive  my 
tormentors. 

From  this  time  I  was  punished  every  day  while 
I  remained  there,  and  for  the  most  simple  things. 
It  was  evident  they  wished  to  break  down  my 
spirit,  but  it  only  confirmed  me  in  my  resolution  to 
get  away  from  them  as  soon  as  possible. 

One  day  I  chanced  to  close  the  door  a  little  too 
hard.  It  was  mere  accident,  but  for  doing  it  they 
burned  me  with  red  hot  tongs.  They  kept  them 
in  the  fire  till  they  were  red  hot,  then  plunged  them 
into  cold  water,  drew  them  out  as  quickly  as  possi- 
ble, and  immediately  applied  them  to  my  arms  or 
feet.  The  skin  would,  of  course  adhere  to  the  iron, 
and  it  would  sometime  burn  down  to  the  bone 


MADE  TO  WALK  ON  TIPTOE. 


145 


)eforc  they  condescended  to  i-cmove  it.  At  another 
time  I  was  cruelly  burned  on  my  arms  and  shoul- 
lers  for  not  standing  erect.  The  flesh  was  deep  in 
lome  places,  and  the  agony  I  suffered  was  intoler- 
ible.  I  thought  of  the  stories  the  Abbess  used  to 
ill  me  years  before  about  the  martyrs  who  were 
mrned  at  the  stake.  But  I  had  not  a  martyr's 
lith,  and  I  could  not  imitate  their  patience  and 
;sJgnation.  The  sores  made  on  these  occasions 
rere  long  in  healing,  and  to  this  day  I  bear  upon 
ly  person  the  scars  caused  by  these  frequent  burn- 
igs. 

I  was  often  punished  because  I  forgot  to  walk 
my  toes.    For  this  trivial  offence  I  have  often 
;en  made  to  fast  two  days.    We  all  wore  cloth 
IOCS,  and  it  was  the  rule  of  the  house  that  we 
lould  all  walk  on  tip-toe.    Sometimes  we  would 
i>rget,  and  take  a  step  or  two  in  the  usual  way ; 
id  then  it  did  seem  as  though  they  rejoiced  in 
le  opportunity  to  inflict  punishment.     It  was  the 
^nly  amusement  they  had,  and  there  was  so  little 
iriety  in  their  daily  life,  I  believe  they  were  glad 
|f  anything  to  break  in  upon  the  monotony  of  con- 
rent  life,  and  give  them  a  little  excitement.    It  was 
^ery  hard  for  me  to  learn  to  walk  on  my  toes,  and 
I  often  failed  to  do  it,  I  was  of  course  punished 
)r  the  atrocious  crime.    But  I  did  learn  at  last, 
)r  what  can  we  not  accomplish  by  resolute  perse- 
verance ?    Several  years  of  practice  so  confirmed 
Jhe  habit  that  I  found  it  as  diflicult  to  leave  off  as 

It  was  to  begin.    Even  now  I  often  find  myself 
'  13 


I    -[h 


I  i 


il 


I 


11 

i 


'■  f-" 


i 
1 

^ 

U  ft 

1 

il 

1  u 

i 
i 

il 

iWl  H    1 

1 
1 

^1 

L 


f-* 


146 


LIFE  IN  THE  OBEY  NUNNERY. 


tripping  along  on  tip-toe  before  I  am  aware  of 
it. 

We  had  a  very  cruel  abbess  in  the  kitchen,  and 
this  was  one  reason  of  our  being  punished  so  often. 
She  was  young  and  inexperienced,  and  had  just 
been  promoted  to  office,  with  which  she  seemed 
much  pleased  and  elated.  She  embraced  every 
opportunity  to  exercise  her  authority,  and  often 
have  I  fasted  two  whole  days  for  accidentally  spill- 
ing a  little  water  on  the  kitchen  floor.  Whenever 
she  wished  to  call  my  attention  to  her,  she  did  not 
content  herself  with  simply  speaking,  but  would 
box  my  ears,  pull  my  hair,  pinch  my  arms,  and  in 
many  ways  so  annoy  and  provoke  me  that  I  often 
wished  her  dead.  One  day  when  I  was  cleaning 
knives  and  forks  she  came  up  to  me  and  gave  me 
such  a  severe  pinch  on  my  arm  that  I  carried  the 
marks  for  many  days.  I  did  not  wait  to  think 
what  I  was  doing,  but  turned  and  struck  her  with 
all  my  niight.  It  could  not  have  been  a  light  blow, 
for  I  was  very  angry.  She  turned  away,  saying 
she  should  report  me  to  the  Lady  Superior.  I  did 
not  answer  her,  but  as  she  passed  through  the  door 
I  threw  a  knife  which  I  hoped  would  hit  her,  but 
it  struck  the  door  as  she  closed  it.  I  expected 
something  dreadful  would  be  done  to  me  after  this 
wilful  violation  of  a  well  known  law.  But  I  could 
bear  it,  I  thought,  and  I  was  glad  I  hit  her  so 
hard. 

She  soon  returned  with  a  young  priest,  who  had 
been  there  but  a  short  time,  and  his  heart  had  not 


•«v: 


A  nun's  revenge. 


I  am  aware  of 


yet  become  so  hard  as  is  necessary  to  be  a  good 
Romish  priest.  He  came  to  me  and  asked, "  What 
is  the  matter  ?  "  I  told  him  the  Abbess  punished 
me  every  day,  that  in  fact  I  was  under  punishment 
most  of  the  time ;  that  I  did  not  deserve  it,  and  I. 
was  resolved  to  bear  it  no  longer.  I  struck  her 
because  she  pinched  me  for  no  good  reason ;  and 
I  should  in  future  try  to  defend  myself  from  her 
cruelty. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  he,  "  what  will  be  done  to 
you  for  this  ?  "  «  No,  sir,"  said  I, « I  do  not  know," 
and  I  was  about  to  add,  "  I  do  not  care,"  but  I 
restrained  myself.  He  went  out,  and  for  a  long 
time  I  expected  to  be  called  to  account,  but  I  heard 
no  more  of  it.  The  Abbess,  however,  went  on  in 
the  old  way,  tormenting  me  on  every  occasion. 

One  day  the  priests  had  a  quarrel  among  them- 
selves, and  if  I  had  said  a  drunken  quarrel^  I  do  not 
think  it  would  have  been  a  very  great  mistake.  In 
the  fray  they  stabbed  one  of  their  number  in  the 
side,  drew  him  out  of  his  room,  and  left  him  on 
the  floor  in  the  hall  of  the  main  building,  but  one 
flight  of  stairs  above  the  kitchen.  Two  nuns,  who 
did  the  chamber  work,  came  down  stairs,  and,  see- 
ing him  lie  there  helpless  and  forsaken,  they  took 
him  by  the  hair  of  the  head  and  drew  him  down 
to  the  kitchen.  Here  they  began' to  torment  him 
in  the  most  cruel  manner.  They  burned  sticks  in 
the  fire  until  the  end  was  a  live  coal,  put  them  into 
his  hands  and  closed  them,  pressing  the  burning 
wood  into  the  flesh,  and  thus  producing  the  most 


i 

ij 

(i! 

,,  i 

«U:... 

148 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


exquisite  pain.  At  least  this  would  have  been  the 
result  if  he  had  realized  their  cruelty.  But  I  think 
he  was  insensible  before  they  touched  him,  or  if 
not,  must  have  died  very  soon  after,  for  I  am  sure 
he  was  dead  when  I  first  saw  him. 

I  went  to  them  and  remonstrated  against  such 
inhuman  conduct.  But  one  of  the  nuns  replied, 
"  That  man  has  tormented  me  more  than  I  can 
him,  if  I  do  my  best,  and  I  wish  him  to  know  how 
good  it  is."  "  But,"  said  I,  some  one  will  come  in, 
and  you  will  be  caught  in  the  act."  "  I'll  risk 
that,"  said  she, "  they  are  quarreling  all  over  the 
house,  and  will  have  enough  to  do  to  look  after 
each  other  for  a  while,  I  assure  you."  "  But  the 
man  is  dead,"  said  I.  "  How  can  you  treat  a 
senseless  corpse  in  that  way  ?  "  "^  I'm  afiraid  he  is 
dead,"  she  replied,  he  don't  move  at  all,  and  I  can't 
feel  his  heart  beat ;  but  I  did  hope  to  make  him 
realize  how  good  the  fire  feels." 

Meanwhile,  the  blood  was  flowing  from  the 
wound  in  his  side,  and  ran  over  the  floor.  The 
sight  of  this  alarmed  them,  and  they  drew  him 
into  another  dark  hall,  and  left  him  beside  the  door 
of  a  room  used  for  punishment.  They  then  came 
back,  locked  the  hall  door,  and  washed  up  the 
blood.  They  expected  to  be  punished  for  moving 
the  dead  body,  but  the  floor  was  dry  before  any  of 
the  priests  came  in,  and  I  do  not  think  it  was  ever 
known.  Perhaps  they  did  not  remember  events  as 
distinctly  as  they  might  under  other  circumstances, 
and  it  is  very  possible,  that,  when  they  found  the 


MURDER   AND    REVENGE. 


Ud 


corpse  they  might  not  have  been  able  to  say 
whether  it  was  where  they  left  it,  or  not.  We  all 
rejoiced  over  the  death  of  that  priest.  He  w^as  a 
very  cruel  man ;  had  punished  me  times  without 
number,  but,  though  I  was  glad  he  was  dead,  I 
could  not  have  touched  him  when  he  lay  helpless 
and  insensible. 

A  few  weeks  after  the  events  just  related, 
another  trifling  occurrence  brought  me  into  col- 
lision with  the  Abbess.  And  here  let  me  remark 
that  I  have  no  way,  by  which  to  ascertain  at  what 
particular  time  certain  events  transpired.  The 
reader  will  understand  that  I  write  this  narrative 
from  memory,  and  our  life  at  the  nunnery  w  as  so 
monotonous,  the  days  and  weeks  passed  by  with 
such  dull,  and  irksome  uniformity,  that  sometimes 
our  frequent  punishments  were  the  only  memorable 
events  to  break  in  upon  the  tiresome  sameness  of 
our  unvarying  life.  Of  course  the  most  simple 
thing  was  regarded  by  us  as  a  great  event,  some- 
thing worthy  of  special  notice,  because,  for  the 
time,  it  diverted  our  minds  from  the  peculiar 
restraints  of  our  disagreeable  situation. 

To  illustrate  this  remark  let  me  relate  an  inci- 
dent that  transpired  about  this  time.  I  was  one 
day  sent  to  a  part  of  the  house  where  I  was  not  in 
the  habit  of  going.  I  was  passing  along  a  dark 
hall,  when  a  ray  of  light  from  an  open  door  fell 
upon  my  path.  I  looked  up,  and  as  the  door  at 
that  moment  swung  wide  open,  I  saw,  before  a 
glass,  in  a  richly  furnished  room,  the  most  beauti- 

13* 


150 


LIFE   IN   THE   GREY  NUNNKKY. 


ful  woman  I  ever  beheld.  From  the  purity  of  her 
complexion,  and  the  bright  color  of  her  cheeks  and 
lips,  I  could  have  taken  her  for  a  piece  of  wax 
work,  but  for  the  fact  that  she  was  carelessly  arrang- 
ing her  hair.  She  was  tall,  and  'legant  in  person, 
with  a  countenance  of  such  rare  and  surpassing 
Leauty,  I  involuntarily  exclaimed,  "  What  a  beau- 
tiful woman!"  She  turned  towards  me  with  a 
smile  of  angelic  sweetness,  while  an  expression  of 
sympathetic  emotion  overspread  her  exquisitely 
moulded  features,  which  seemed  to  say  as  plainly 
as  though  she  had  spoken  in  words, "  Poor  child,  I 
pity  you."  I  now  became  conscious  that  I  was 
breaking  the  rules  of  the  house,  and  hastened 
away.  But  O,  how  many  days  my  soul  fed  on 
that  smile !  I  never  saw  the  lady  again,  her  name 
I  could  never  know,  but  that  look  of  tenderness 
will  never  be  forgotten.  It  was  something  to  think 
of  through  many  dreary  hours,  something  to  look 
back  to,  and  be  grateful  for,  all  the  days  of  my 
life. 

But  to  return  to  my  narrative.  The  priests  had 
a  large  quantity  of  sap  gathered  from  the  maple 
trees,  and  brought  to  the  nunnery  to  be, boiled 
into  sugar.  Another  nun  and  myself  were  left  :o 
watch  it,  keep  the  kettle  filled  up,  and  prevent  it 
from  burning.  It  was  boiled  in  the  large  caldron 
of  which  I  have  before  spoken,  and  covered  with  a 
large,  thin,  wooden  cover.  The  sap  had  boiled 
some  time,  and  become  very  thick.  I  was 
employed  in  filling  up  the  kettle  when  the  Abbess 


CRUEL  ORDER. 


151 


i 


of  tenderness 


came  into  the  room,  and  after  a  few  inquiries, 
directed  me  to  stand  upon  the  cover  of  the  cald- 
ron, v'.nd  fix  a  large  hook  directly  over  it.  I 
objected,  for  I  know  full  well  that  it  would  not 
bear  a  fourth  part  of  my  weight.  She  then  took 
hold  of  me,  and  tried  to  force  me  to  step  upon  it, 
but  I  knew  I  should  be  burned  to  death,  for  the 
cover,  on  account  of  its  enormous  size  was  made 
as  thin  as  possible,  that  we  might  be  able  to  lift  it. 
When  I  saw  that  she  was  determined  to  make  me 
yield,  in  self  defence,  I  threw  her  upon  the  floor. 
Would  that  I  had  been  content  to  stop  here.  But 
no.  When  I  saw  her  in  my  power,  and  remem- 
bered how  much  I  had  suffered  from  her,  my  angry 
passions  rose,  and  I  thought  only  of  revenge. 

I  commenced  beating  her  with  all  my  might, 
and  when  I  stopped  from  mere  exhaustion,  the 
other  nun  caught  her  by  the  hair  and  began  to 
draw  her  round  the  room.  She  struggled  and 
shrieked,  but  she  could  not  help  herself.  Her 
screams,  however,  alarmed  the  house,  and  hearing 
one  of  the  priests  coming,  the  nun  gave  her  a  kick 
and  left  her.  The  priest  asked  what  we  were 
doing,  and  the  Abbess  related  with  all  possible 
exaggeration,  the  story  of  our  cruelty.  "  But  what 
did  you  do  to  them  ? "  asked  the  priest.  "  You 
gave  them  some  provocation,  or  they  never  would 
treat  you  so."  She  was  then  obliged  to  tell  what 
had  passed  between  us,  and  he  said  she  deserved 
to  euffer  for  giving  such  an  order.  "  Why,"  said 
he, "  that   30ver  would  not  have  held  her  a  mo- 


m 


152 


LIFE  IN  THE  OBEY  NUNNERY. 


I 

I 


1! 
t 


ment,  and  she  would  most  assuredly  have  burned 
to  «leath."  He  punished  us  all;  the  Abbess  for 
giving  the  order,,  and  us  for  abui^ing  her.  I  should 
not  have  done  this  thing,  had  I  not  come  off  so 
well,  when  I  once  before  attempted  to  defend 
myself;  but  my  success  at  that  time  gn-ve  me 
courage  to  try  it  again.  My  punishment  was  just, 
and  I  bore  it  very  well,  consoled  by  the  thought 
that  justice  was  awarded  to  the  Abbess,  as  WftU  an 
myself. 


.S 


If 


»T. 


have  burned 
e  Abbess  for 
ler.  I  should 
't  come  off  so 
3d  to  defend 
me  ga-ve  me 
lent  wjis  just, 
^  the  thought 
3S9,  as  well  a« 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

SICKNESS  AND  DEATH    OF   A   SUPERIOR. 

The  nex'  excitement  in  our  little  community 
was  caused  by  the  sickness  and  death  of  our  Su- 
pt  lor.  I  do  not  know  what  her  disease  was,  but 
she  was  sick  two  weeks,  and  one  of  the  nuns  from 
the  kitchen  was  sent  to  take  care  of  her.  One 
night  she  was  so  much  worse,  the  nun  thought  she 
would  die,  and  she  began  to  torment  her  in  the 
most  inhuman  manner.  She  had  been  severely 
punished  a  short  time  before  at  the  instigation  of 
this  woman,  and  she  then  swore  revenge  if  she 
ever  found  an  opportunity.  Now  it  was  presented. 
She  was  in  her  power,  too  weak  to  resist  or  call 
for  assistance,  and  she  resolved  to  let  her  know  by 
experience  how  bitterly  she  had  made  others  suffer 
in  days  gone  by.  It  was  a  fiendish  spirit,  un- 
doubtedly, that  prompted  her  to  seek  revenge  upon 
the  dying,  but  what  else  could  we  expect  ?  She 
only  followed  the  example  of  her  elders,  and  if  she 
went  somewhat  beyond  their  teachings,  she  had,  as 
we  shall  see,  her  reasons  for  so  doing.  "With  hot 
irons  she  burned  her  on  various  parts  of  her  person, 
cut  great  gashes  in  the  flesh  upon  her  face,  sides, 
and  arms,  and  then  rubbed  salt  and  pepper  into 
the  wounds.    But  I  will  not  try  to  describe  it. 


■*■• ., 


15 1 


LIFR   TN   TIIM   C.T^KY   NUNNERY. 


II  ' 

r 

I 


t 


n 


fi  'I 

'A 


The  wretched  woman  died  before  morning,  and 
the  nun  went  to  the  priest  and  told  him  that  the 
Superior  was  dead,  and  that  she  had  killed  her. 
The  priests  were  immediately  all  called  toge'ther, 
and  the  Bishop  called  upon  for  counsel.  He  sen- 
tenced her  to  be  hung  that  morning  in  the  chapel 
before  the  assembled  household.  The  Abbess 
came  and  informed  us  what  had  taken  place,  and 
directed  us  to  get  ready  and  go  to  the  chapel. 
When  we  entered,  the  doomed  girl  sat  upon  a 
chair  on  the  altar.  She  was  clad  in  a  white  robe, 
with  a  white  cap  on  her  head,  and  appeared  calm, 
self-possessed,  and  even  joyful.  The  Bishop  asked 
her  if  she  had  anything  to  say  for  herself.  She 
immediately  rose  and  said,  ^'  I  have  killed  the  Su- 
perior, for  which  I  am  to  be  hung.  I  know  that  I 
deserve  to  die,  but  I  have  suffered  more  than  death 
many  times  over,  from  punishments  inflicted  by 
her  order.  For  many  years  my  life  has  been  one 
of  continual  suffering ;  and  for  what  ?  For  just 
nothing  at  all,  or  for  the  most  simple  things.  Is  it 
right,  is  it  just  to  starve  a  person  two  whole  days 
for  shutting  the  door  a  little  too  hard  ?  or  to  burn 
one  with  hot  irons  because  a  little  water  was  acci- 
dentally spilt  on  the  floor?  Yet  for  these  and 
similar  things  I  have  again  and  again  been  tortured 
within  an  inch  of  my  life.  Now  that  I  am  to  be 
hung,  I  am  glad  of  it,  for  I  shall  die  quick,  and  be 
out  of  my  misery,  instead  of  being  tortured  to 
death  by  inches.  I  did  this  thing  for  this  very 
purpose,  for  I  do  not  fear  death  nor  anything  that 


t 


UNPLEASANT  ANTICIPATION. 


155 


cornea  after  it.  Talk  about  the  existence  of  a  Qod! 
I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  And  the  story  of 
heaven  and  hell,  purgatory,  and  the  Virgin  Mary ; 
why,  it 's  all  a  humbug,  like  the  rest  of  the  vile 
stuff  you  call  religion.  Religion  indeed !  You 
wont  catch  us  nuns  believing  it,  and  more  than  all 
that,  you  don't  believe  it  yourselves,  not  one  of 
you." 

She  sat  down,  and  they  put  a  cap  over  her  head 
and  face,  drew  it  tight  around  her  neck,  adjusted 
the  rope,  and  she  was  launched  into  eternity.  To 
me  it  seemed  a  horrid  thing,  and  I  could  not  look 
upon  her  dying  struggles.  I  did  not  justify  the 
girl  in  what  she  had  done,  yet  I  knew  that  the 
woman  would  have  died  if  she  had  let  her  alone ; 
and  I  also  knew  that  worse  things  than  that  were 
done  in  the  nunnery  almost  every  day,  and  that 
too  by  the  very  men  who  had  taken  her  life.  I 
left  the  chapel  with  a  firm  resolve  to  make  one 
more  effort  to  escape  from  a  thraldom  that  every 
day  became  more  irksome. 

At  the  door  the  Abbess  met  me,  and  led  me  to 
a  room  I  had  never  seen  before,  where,  to  my  great 
surprise,  I  found  my  bed.  She  said  it  was  removed 
by  her  order,  and  in  future  I  was  to  sleep  in  that 
room.  "  What !  sleep  here  alone  ?  "  1  exclaimed, 
quite  forgetting,  in  the  agitation  of  the  moment, 
the  rule  of  silent  obedience.  But  she  did  not  con- 
descend to  notice  either  my  question  or  the  un- 
pleasant feelings  which  must  have  been  visible  in 
my  features.    I  did  feel  very  much  troubled.    I  had 


156 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


;'<'^ 


I 


never  slept  in  a  room  alone  a  night  in  my  life. 
Another  nun  always  occupied  the  room  with  me, 
and  when  she  was  absent,  as  she  often  was  when 
under  punishment,  the  Abbess  slept  there,  so  that 
I  was  never  alone.  I  did  not  often  meet  the  girl 
with  whom  I  slept,  as  she  did  not  work  in  the 
kitchen,  but  whenever  I  did,  I  felt  as  pleased  as 
though  she  had  been  my  sister.  Yet  I  never  spoke 
to  her,  nor  did  she  ever  attempt  to  converse  with 
me.  Yes,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  incredible  as 
my  reader  may  think  it,  it  is  a  fact,  that  during  all 
the  years  we  slept  together,  not  one  word  ever 
passed  between  us.  We  did  not  even  dare  to 
communicate  our  thoughts  by  signs,  lest  the  Abbess 
should  detect  us. 

That  night  I  spent  in  my  new  room ;  but  I  could 
not  sleep.  I  had  heard  strange  hints  about  some 
room  where  no  one  could  sleep,  and  where  no  one 
liked  to  go,  though  for  what  reason  I  could  never 
learn.  When  I  first  entered,  I  discovered  that  the 
floor  was  badly  stained,  and,  while  speculating  on 
the  cause  of  those  stains,  I  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  this  was  the  room  to  which  so  much  mystery 
was  attached.  It  was  very  dark,  with  no  window 
in  it,  situated  in  the  midst  of  the  house,  surrounded 
by  other  rooms,  and  no  means  of  veatilation  except 
the  door.  I  did  not  close  my  eyes  during  the 
whole  night.  I  imagined  that  the  door  opened  and 
shut,  that  persons  were  walking  in  the  room,  and  I 
am  certain  that  I  heard  noises  near  my  bed  for 
which  I  could  not  account.    Altogether,  it  was  the 


SUPERSTITIOUS  FEARS. 


157 


;ir  UJiS 


most  uncomfortable  night  I  ever  spent,  and  I 
believe  that  few  persons  would  have  felt  entirely 
at  ease  in  my  situation. 

To  such  a  degree  did  these  superstitious  fears 
assail  me,  I  felt  as  though  I  would  endure  any 
amount  of  physical  suffering  rather  than  stay  there 
another  night.  Resolved  to  brave  everything,  I 
went  to  a  priest  and  asked  permission  to  speak  to 
him.  It  was  an  unusual  thing,  and  I  think  his 
curiosity  was  excited,  for  it  was  only  in  extreme 
cases  that  a  nun  ventures  to  appeal  to  a  priest. 
When  I  told  him  my  story,  he  seemed  much  sur- 
prised, and  asked  by  whose  order  my  bed  was 
moved  to  that  room.  I  informed  him  of  all  the 
particulars,  when  he  ordered  me  to  move  my  bed 
back  again.  "  No  one,"  said  he,  "  has  slept  in  that 
room  for  years,  and  we  do  not  wish  any  one  to 
sleep  there."  I  accordingly  moved  the  bed  back, 
and  as  I  had  permission  from  the  priest,  the  Abbess 
dared  not  find  fault  with  me. 

14 


•^; 


CHAPTER  XX. 


STUDENTS  AT  THE  ACADEMY. 


irf: 


Through  the  winter  I  continued  to  work  as  usual, 
leading  the  same  dull,  dreary,  and  monotonous  life, 
varied  only  by  pains,  and  privations.  In  the  spring 
a  slight  change  was  made  in  the  household  arrange- 
ments, and  for  a  short  time  I  assisted  some  of  the 
other  nuns  to  do  the  chamber  work  for  the  students 
at  the  academy.  There  was  an  under-ground  pas- 
sage from  the  convent  to  the  cellar  of  the  academy 
through  which  we  passed.  Before  we  entered,  the 
doors  and  windows  were  securely  fastened,  and  the 
students  ordered  to  leave  their  rooms,  and  not 
return  again  till  we  had  left.  They  were  also  for- 
bidden to  speak  to  us,  but  whenever  thft- teachers 
were  away,  they  were  sure  to  come  back  to  their 
rooms,  and  ask  us  all  manner  of  questions.  They 
wished  to  know,  they  said,  how  long  we  were  going 
to  stay  in  the  convent,  if  we  really  enjoyed  the  life 
we  had  chosen,  and  were  happy  in  our  retirement ; 
if  we  had  not  rather  return  to  the  world,  go  into 
company,  get  married,  etc.  I  suppose  they  really 
thought  that  we  could  leave  at  any  time  if  we 
chose.  But  we  did  not  dare  to  answer  their  ques- 
tions, or  let  them  know  the  truth. 


'hi 


AT,T,    I'OISONKT). 


159 


V. 

^ork  as  usual, 
notonous  life, 
In  the  spring 
ihold  arrange- 
some  of  the 
»r  the  students 
sr-ground  pas- 
f  the  academy 
re  entered,  the 
itened,  and  the 


One  day,  when  we  went  to  do  the  work,  we  found 
in  one  of  the  rooms,  some  men  who  were  engaged 
in  painting.  They  asked  us  if  we  were  contented. 
WcHlid  not  dare  to  reply,  lest  they  should  betray  us. 
They  then  began  to  make  remarks  about  us,  some 
of  which  I  well  remember.  One  of  them  said, "  I 
don't  believe  they  are  used  very  well ;  they  look  as 
though  they  were  half  starved."  Another  replied, 
"  I  know  they  do ;  there  is  certainly  something 
wrong  about  these  convents,  or  the  nuns  would  not 
all  look  so  pale  and  thin."  I  suspect  the  man  little 
thought  how  much  truth  there  was  in  his  remarks. 

Soon  after  the  painters  left  we  were  all  taken 
suddenly  ill.  Some  were  worse  than  others,  but 
all  were  unwell  except  one  nun.  As  all  exhibited 
the  same  symptoms,  we  were  supposed  to  have 
taken  poison,  and  suspicion  fastened  on  that  nun. 
She  was  put  upon  the  rack,  and  when  she  saw  that 
her  guilt  could  not  be  concealed,  she  confessed  that 
she  poisoned  the  water  in  the  well,  but  she  would 
not  tell  what  she  put  into  it,  nor  where  she  got  it. 
She  said  she  did  not  do  it  to  injure  the  nuns,  for 
she  thought  they  were  allowed  so  little  drink  with 
their  food,  they  would  not  be  affected  by  it,  while 
those  who  drank  more,  she  hoped  to  kill.  She  dis- 
liked all  the  priests,  and  the  Superior,  and  would 
gladly  have  murdered  them  all.  But  for  one  priest 
in  particular,  she  felt  all  the  hatred  that  a  naturally 
malignant  spirit,  excited  by  repeated  acts  of  cruelty, 
is  capable  of.  He  had  p%iished  her  repeatedly, 
and  as  she  thought,  unjustly,  and  she  resolved  to 


*' 


160 


LIFE   IN   THE   GREY   NUNNKRY, 


avenge  herself  and  destroy  her  enemy,  even  though 
the  innocent  should  suffer  with  the  guilty.  This 
was  all  wrong,  fearfully  wrong  we  must  admit.  But 
while  we  look  with  horror  at  the  enormity  of  her  crime 
let  us  remember  that  she  had  great  provocation.  I 
hope  there  are  few  who  could  have  sought  revenge 
in  the  way  she  did ;  yet  I  cannot  believe  that  any 
one  would  endure  from  another  what  she  was  com- 
pelled to  suffer  from  that  man,  without  some  feel- 
ings of  resentment.  Let  us  not  judge  too  harshly 
this  erring  sister,  for  if  her  crime  was  great,  her 
wrongs  were  neither  small  nor  few,  and  her  pun- 
ishment was  terrible. 

They  tortured  her  a  long  time  to  make  her  tell 
what  kind  of  poison  she  put  in  the  well,  and  where 
she  obtained  it.  They  supposed  she  must  have 
got  it  from  the  painters,  but  she  would  never  tell 
where  she  procured  it.  This  fact  proves  that  she 
had  some  generous  feelings  left.  Under  any  other 
circumstances  such  magnanimity  would  have  been 
highly  applauded,  and  in  my  secret  soul  I  could  not 
but  admire  the  firmness  with  which  she  bore  her 
sufferings.  She  was  kept  upon  the  rack  until  all 
her  joints  were  dislocated,  and  the  flesh  around  them 
mortified.  They  then  carried  her  to  her  room, 
removed  the  bed,  and  laid  her  upon  the  bedcord. 
The  nuns  were  all  assembled  to  look  at  her,  and 
take  warning  by  her  sad  fate.  Such  a  picture  of 
misery  I  never  saw  before.  She  seemed  to  have 
suffered  evsn  more  th^  the  old  lady  I  saw  in  the 
cellar.    It  was  but  a  moment,  however,  that  we 


LITTLE  SINS. 


ICl 


were  allowed  to  gaze  upon  her  shrunken  r;liastly 
features,  and  then  she  was  hid  from  our  sight  ibr- 
ever.  The  nuns,  except  two  or  three,  were  sent 
from  the  room,  and  thus  the  murder  was  consum- 
mated.   What  else  can  we  call  it  ? 

There  \v  as  one  young  student  at  the  academy 
whose  name  was  Smalley.  He  was  from  New 
England,  and  his  father  lived  at  St.  Albans,  Vt., 
where  he  had  wealth  and  influence.  This  young 
man  had  a  little  sister  who  used  to  visit  at  the  con- 
vent, whom  they  called  Sissy  Smalley.  She  was 
young,  but  handsome,  witty  and  intelligent.  For 
one  of  her  age,  she  was  very  much  refined  in  her 
manners.  They  allowed  her  to  go  anywhere  in 
the  building  except  the  private  appaitments  where 
those  deeds  of  darkness  were  performed  which 
would  not  bear  the  pure  light  of  heaven.  I  pre- 
sume that  no  argument  could  convince  little  Sissy 
Smalley  that  such  rooms  were  actually  in  the 
nunnery,  She  had  been  all  over  it,  she  would  tell 
you,  and  she  never  saw  any  torture  rooms,  never 
heard  of  any  one  being  punished,  or  anything  of 
the  kind.  Such  reports  would  appear  to  her  as 
mere  slanders,  yet  God  knows  they  are  true.  I 
well  remember  how  I  used  to  shudder  to  iiear  that 
child  praise  the  nunnery,  tell  what  a  nice,  quiet 
place  it  was,  and  how  she  would  like  it  for  a  per- 
manent home.  I  hope  her  brother  will  find  out 
the  truth  about  it  in  season  to  prevent  his  beauti- 
ful sister  from  ever  becomi|g  a  nun, 

14* 


i 


¥\ 


\<i 


111 


■■)'■• 


fi- 


11 

I 
I 

H 

/I! 


t 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SECOND  ESCAPE  FROM  THE  NUNNERY. 

It  was  early  in  the  spring,  when  I  again  suc- 
ceeded in  making  my  escape.  It  was  on  a  Satur- 
day evening,  when  the  priests  and  nearly  all  the 
nuns  were  in  the  chapel.  I  was  assisted  out  of  the 
yard  in  the  same  way  I  was  before,  and  by  the 
same  person.  There  was  still  snow  upon  the 
ground  and  that  they  might  not  be  able  to  track 
me,  I  entered  the  market  and  walked  the  whole 
length  of  it  without  attracting  observation.  From 
thence  I  crossed  the  street,  when  I  saw  a  police 
officer  coming  directly  towards  me.*  I  turned 
down  a  dark  alley  and  ran  for  my  life,  I  knew  not 
whither.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  police  officer  in 
Montreal  to  accompany  any  of  the  sisters  whom 
they  chance  to  meet  in  the  street,  and  I  knew  if  he 
saw  me  he  would  offer  to  attend  me  wherever  I 
wished  to  go.  Such  an  offer  might  not  be  refused, 
and,  certainly,  his  company,  just  at  that  timr,  was 
neither  desirable  nor  agreeable. 

At  the  end  of  the  alley,  I  found  myself  near  a 
large  church,  and  two  priests  were  coming  directly 
towards  me.  It  is  sai^  "  the  drowning  catch  at 
straws."      Whether  thiE  be  true  or  not,  the  plan 


fi  I 


HOPES   AND   FEARS. 


163 


which  I  adopted  in  this  emergency  seemed  as 
hopeless  for  my  preservation,  as  a  straw  for  the 
support  of  the  drowning.  Yet  it  was  the  only 
course  I  could  pursue,  for  to  escape  unseen  was 
impossible.  I  therefore  resolved  to  go  boldly  past 
them,  and  try  to  make  them  think  I  was  a  Supe- 
rior going  to  church.  Trying  to  appear  as  indif- 
ferent as  possible,  I  approached,  and  saluted  them 
in  the  usual  way.  This  is  done  by  throwing  for- 
ward the  open  hand,  and  passing  it  down  by  the 
side  with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head.  Th^ 
priest  returns  the  salutation  by  standing  with 
uncovered  head  till  you  have  passed.  In  the  pres- 
ent instance,  the  priest  said,  as  he  removed  his  hat, 
"  Church  is  in,  Sister."  I  bowed  again,  and  has- 
tened on.  With  trembling  limbs  I  ascended  the 
Church  steps,  and  stood  there  till  the  priests  were 
out  of  sight.  It  was  but  a  moment,  yet  it  seemed 
a  long  time.  I  knew  the  house  was  filled  with 
priests  and  students,  some  of  whom  would  be  sure 
to  recognize  me  ai  once.  What  if  they  should 
come  out!  The  thought  of  it  nearly  took  away 
my  breath.  The  cold  perspiration  started  from  my 
brow,  and  I  felt  as  though  I  should  faint.  But  my 
fears  were  not  realized,  and  as  soon  as  the  priests 
were  out  of  sight,  I  went  on  again.  Soon  I  oame 
to  a  cross  street,  leading  to  the  river,  where  a  large 
hotel  stood  on  the  corner.  I  followed  the  river, 
and  travelled  all  night.  The  next  day,  fearing  to 
be  seen  by  people  going  to  church,  I  hid  in  a  cellar 
hole,  covered  over  with  old  boards  and  timbers, 


! 


<  i»i 


fill  i^        s 


r 


'I 


f- 


164 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


At  night  I  went  on  again,  and  on  Sunday  even- 
ing about  ten  o'clock  I  came  to  a  small  village 
where  I  resolved  to  seek  food  and  lodging.  Tired, 
hungry  and  cold,  feeling  as  though  I  could  not 
takp  another  step,  I  called  at  one  of  the  houses, 
and  asked  permission  to  stay  over  night.  It  was 
cheeiiully  granted.  The  lady  gave  rne  some  milk, 
and  I  retired  to  rest.  Next  morning,  I  rose  early 
and  lefr  before  any  of  the  family  were  up.  I  knew 
they  <vere  all  Romanists,  and  I  feared  to  trust 
them.  ^ 

At  noon  that  day  I  arrived  at  St.  Oars,  a  town, 
named,  as  I  have  been  informed,  for  the  man  who 
owns  a  great  part  of  it.  I  stopped  at  a  public 
house,  which,  they  called,  "  Lady  St.  Oars,"  where 
they  were  eating  dinner.  The  landlady  invited  me 
to  dine  with  them,  and  asked  if  I  belonged  to  the 
convent  in  that  place.  I  told  her  that  I  did,  for  I 
knew  if  I  told  the  truth  they  would  suspect  me  at 
once.  "  Do  you  eat  meat  ? "  she  asked.  I  told 
her  I  did  not.  "  Do  you  eat  butter  on  your 
bread?"  I  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  she 
gave  me  a  slice  of  bread  and  butter,  a  piece  of 
cheese  and  a  silver  cup  full  of  milk.  I  ate  it  all, 
and  would  gladly  have  eaten  more,  for  I  was  very 
hungry.  As  I  was  about  to  leave,  the  lady 
remarked,  "  There  was  grease  in  that  cheese,  was 
it  a  sin  for  me  to  give  it  to  you  ?  "  I  assured  her 
it  was  not,  for  I  was  allowed  to  eat  milk,  and  the 
cheese  being  made  of  milk,  there  could  be  no  sin 
in  my  eating  it.     I  told  her  that,  so  far  from  com- 


THE   FRENCHMAN. 


1G5 


mitting  a  sin,  the  blessed  Virgin  was  pleased  with 
her  benevolent  spirit,  and  would,  in  some  way, 
reward  her  for  her  kindness. 

Leaving  Lady  St.  Oars,  I  went  on  to  the  next 
town  where  I  arrived  at  seven  in  the  evening.  I 
called  at  the  house  of  a  Fienchman,  and  asked  if 
I  could  stay  over  night,  or  at  least,  be  allowed  to 
rest  awhile.  The  man  said  I  was  welcome  to 
come  in,  but  he  had  no  place  where  I  could  sleep. 
They  were  just  sitting  dcwn  to  supper,  which  con- 
sisted of  pea  soup ;  but  the  lady  said  there  was 
meat  in  it,  and  she  would  not  invite  me  to  partake 
of  it;  but  she  gave  me  «,  good  supper  of  bread  and 
milk.  She  thought  I  was  a  Sister  of  Charity,  and 
I  did  not  tell  her  that  I  was  not.  After  supper,  she 
saw  that  my  skirt  was  stiff  with  mud,  and  kindly 
offered  to  wash  it  out  for  me,  saying,  I  could  rest 
till  it  W9S  dry.  I  joyfully  accepted  her  offer,  and 
reclining  in  a  corner,  enjoyed  a  refreshing  slumber. 

It  was  near  twelve  o'clock  before  I  was  ready  to 
go  on  again,  and  when  I  asked  how  far  it  was  to 
the  next  town,  they  manifested  a  great  anxiety  for 
my  welfare.  The  man  said  it  was  seven  miles  to 
Mt.  Bly,  but  he  hoped  I  did  not  intend  to  walk.  I 
told  him  I  did  not  know  whether  I  should  or  not, 
perhaps  I  might  ride.  "  But  are  you  not  afraid  to 
go  on  alone  ? "  he  asked.  "  St.  Dennis  is  a  bad 
piece  for  a  lady  to  be  out  alone  at  night,  and  you 
must  pass  a  grave-yard  in  the  south  part  of  the 
town ;  dare  you  go  by  it,  in  the  dark  ?  ^'  I  assured 
him  that  I  had  no  fear  whatever,  that  would  pre- 


IGG 


LIFE   TN   THE   GREY   NUNNEPY. 


If' 


vent  me  from  going  past  the  grave-yard.  I  had 
never  committed  a  crime,  never  injured  any  one, 
and  I  did  not  think  the  departed  would  come  back 
to  harm  me.  The  lady  said  she  would  think  of 
mc  with  some  anxiety,  for  she  should  not  dare  to 
go  past  that  grave-yard  alone  in  the  dark.  I  again 
assured  her  that  I  had  no  cause  to  fear,  had  no 
crime  on  my  conscience,  had  been  guilty  of  no 
neghd  of  duty,  and  if  the  living  would  let  me 
alone,  I  did  not  fear  the  dead.  They  thought  I 
vt  ferred  to  the  low  characters  about  towft,  and  the 
iiidy  replied,  "  I  shall  tell  my  beads  for  you  and  the 
holy  ;  gin  will  protect  yoB  from  all  harm.  But 
remember,"  she  continued,  "  whenever  you  pass  this 
way,  you  will  always  find  a  cordial  welcome  with 
us."  I  thanked  her,  and  with  a  warm  grasp  of  the 
hand  we  parted. 


CHAPTER    XXll 


LONELY   MIDNIGHT   WALK. 


It  was  near  morning  when  I  entered  Mt.  BIy, 
but  I  did  not  stop.  I  traveled  all  night,  and  late  in 
the  morning  came  to  a  respectable  looking  farm- 
house which  I  thought  might  be  occupied  by  Pro- 
testants. I  always  noticed  that  their  houses  were 
neater,  and  more  comfortable  than  those  of  the 
Bomanists  in  the  same  condition  in  life.  In  the 
present  instance  I  was  not  disappointed  in  my 
expectations.  The  lady  received  me  kindly,  gave 
me  some  breakfast,  and  directed  me  to  the  next 
village.  I  walked  all  day,  and  near  night  arrived 
at  St.  Mary's,  where  I  called  at  a  house,  and  asked 
permission  to  sit  and  rest  awhile.  They  gave  me 
an  invitation  to  enter,  but  did  not  offer  refresh- 
ments. I  did  not  like  to  ask  {( *  charity  if  I  could 
avoid  it,  and  I  thought  it  possible  they  might  ask 
me  to  stay  over  night.  But  they  did  not,  and 
after  a  half  hour's  rest  I  rose  to  depart,  and  thank- 
ing them  for  their  kindness,  inquired  how  far  it 
was  to  the  next  house.  They  said  it  was  seven 
mUes  to  the  first  house,  and  nine  to  the  next  vil- 
lage. 

With   a  sad   heart,  I  once   more  pursued  my 


168 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


Ml 


lonely  way.  Soon  it  began  to  rain,  and  the  night 
came  on,  dark  and  dismal,  cold  and  stormy,  with 
a  high  wind  that  drove  the  rain  against  my  face 
with  pitiless  fury.  I  entered  a  thick  wood  where 
no  ray  of  light  could  penetrate,  and  at  almost  every 
step,  I  sank  over  shoes  in  the  mud.  Thus  I  wan- 
dered on,  reflecting  bitterly  on  my  wrerched  fate. 
AU  the  superstitious  fears,  which  a  convent  life  is 
so  well  calculated  to  produce,  again  assailed  me, 
and  I  was  frightened  at  my  own  wild  imaginings. 
I  thought  of  the  nuns  who  had  been  murdered  so 
cruelly,  and  I  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  storm,  as 
to  the  despairing  wail  of  a  lost  soul.  The  wind 
swept  fiercely  through  the  leafless  branches,  now 
roaring  like  a  tornado,  again  rising  to  a  shrill 
shriek,  or  a  prolonged  whistle,  then  sinking  to  a 
hollow  murmer,  and  dying  away  in  a  low  sob 
which  sounded  to  my  excited  fancy  like  the  last 
convulsive  sigh  of  a  breaking  heart.  Once  and 
again  I  paused,  faint  and  dizzy  with  hunger  and 
fatigue,  feeling  as  though  I  could  go  no  further. 
But  there  was  no  alternative.  I  must  go  on  or 
perish.  And  go  on  I  did,  though,  as  I  now  look 
back  upon  that  night's  experience,  I  wonder  how 
I  managed  to  do  so.  But  a  kind  providence, 
undoubtedly,  watched  over  me,  and  good  angels 
guided  me  on  my  way.  Some  time  in  the  night, 
I  think  it  must  have  been  past  twelve  o'clock,  I 
became  so  very  weary  I  felt  that  I  must  rest  awhile 
at  all  events.  It  was  lo  dark  I  could  not  see  a  step 
before  me,  but  I  groped  my  way  to  a  fence,  seated 


COLD  AND  HUNGER. 


169 


myself  on  a  stone  with  my  head  resting  against 
the  rails,  and  in  that  position  I  fell  asleep. 

How  long  I  slept,  I  do  not  know.  I  think  it 
must  have  been  some  hours.  When  I  awoke,  my 
clothes  were  drenched  with  rain,  and  I  was  so  stiff 
and  lame,  I  could  hardly  move.  But  go  I  must,  so 
I  resolved  to  make  the  best  of  it,  and  hobble  along 
as  well  as  I  could.  At  last  I  reached  the  village, 
but  it  was  not  yet  morning,  and  I  dared  not  stop, 
I  kept  on  till  daylight,  and  as  soon  as  I  thought 
people  were  up,  I  went  up  to  a  house  and  rapped. 
A  v/oman  came  to  the  door,  and  I  asked  if  she 
would  allow  me  to  go  in,  and  dry  my  clothes,  and 
I  would  have  added,  get  some  breakfast,  but  her 
looks  restrained  me.  They  were  getting  break- 
fast, but  did  not  invite  me  to  partake  of  it,  and  I 
dared  not  ask  for  anything  to  eat.  When  my 
clothes  were  dry,  I  thanked  them  for  the  use  of 
their  fire,  and  inquired  how  far  it  was  to  the  next 
village.  They  said  the  next  town  was  Highgate, 
but  they  did  not  know  the  distance. 

My  tears  flowed  freely  when  I  again  found 
myself  in  the  street,  cold,  hungry,  almost  sick,  and 
entirely  friendless.  What  should  I  do?  What 
would  become  of  me  ?  One  thought  alone  gave 
courage  to  my  desponding  heart,  buoyed  up  my 
sinking  spirits,  and  restored  strength  to  my  weary 
limbs.  I  was  striving  for  liberty,  that  priceless 
boon,  so  dear  to  every  human  heart.  I  might,  per- 
haps, obtain  it.     At  least,  I  v/ould  try. 

Nerved  to  renewed  effort  by  thoughts  like  these, 

15 


170 


LIFE   IN  THE  GREY  NUNNKRY. 


If 


I  toiled  onward.  All  that  day  I  walked  without  a 
particle  of  nourishment.  When  I  reached  High- 
gate,  it  was  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  but  in  one 
house  I  saw  a  light,  and  I  ventured  to  rap  at  the 
door.  It  was  opened  by  a  pale,  but  pleasant  look- 
ing woman.  "  Kind  lady,"  said  I,  "  will  you  please 
tell  me  how  far  it  is  to  the  States  ?  *'  "  To  the 
States !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  in  a  moment  she 
seemed  to  understand  both  my  character  and  situ- 
ation. "  You  are  now  in  Vern.ont  State,"  said 
she,  "  but  come  in  child,  you  look  sad  and  weary." 
I  at  once  accepted  her  offer,  and  when  she  asked 
how  far  I  was  traveling,  and  how  I  came  to  be  out 
so  late,  I  did  not  hesit&te  to  reveal  to  her  my 
secret,  for  I  was  sure  she  could  be  trusted.  She 
invited  me  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  night, 
and  gave  me  some  refreshment.  She  was  nursing 
a  sick  woihan,  whi' U  ai^ counted  for  her  being  up 
so  late,  but  did  not  prevent  her  from  attending  to 
all  my  wants,  and  malting  me  as  comfortable  as 
possible.  When  she  saw  that  my  feet  were 
wounded,  badly  swollen,  and  covered  with  blood 
and  dirt,  she  procured  warm  water,  and  with  her 
own  hands  bathed,  and  made  them  clean,  with  the 
best  toilet  soap.  She  expressed  fjreat  sympathy 
for  the  sad  condition  my  feet  were  in,  and  asked 
if  I  had  no  shoes  ?  I  told  he.r  that  my  shoes  were 
made  of  cloth,  and  soon  wore  out ;  that  what  was 
left  of  them,  I  lost  in  the  r.iud,  when  traveling 
through  the  woods  in  the  dark.  She  then  procured 
a  pair  of  nice  woollen  stockings,  and  a  pair  of  new 


ACCia-TA ULE   I'KKSIiXT. 


17L 


shoes,  somo  under  clothes,  and  a  good  fhinnel  skirt, 
which  she  begged  me  to  wear  for  her  sake.  I 
accepted  them  gratefully,  but  the  shoes  1  could  not 
wear,  my  feet  were  si  sore.  She  said  I  could  take 
them  with  me,  and  she  gave  me  a  pair  of  Indian 
moccasins  to  weai  till  my  feet  were  healed.  Angel 
of  mercy  that  she  was;  may  God's  blessing  res' 
upon  her  for  her  kindness  to  the  friendless  wui 
erer. 

The  next  morning  the  good  lady  urged  me  to 
stay  with  her,  at  least,  for  a  time,  and  said  I  should 
be  welcome  to  a  home  there  for  the  rest  of  my 
life.  Grateful  as  I  was  for  her  offer,  I  was  forced 
to  decline  it,  for  I  knew  that  I  could  not  remain  so 
near  Montreal  in  safety.  She  said  the "  select 
men  "  of  the  town  would  protect  me,  if  they  were 
made  acquainted  with  my  peculiar  situation. 
Dear  lady!  she  little  knew  the  character  of  a 
Romish  priest !  Her  guileless  heart  did  not  sus- 
pect the  cunning  artifice  by  which  they  accom- 
plish whatever  they  undertake.  And  those  worthy 
"  sel(  A  men,"  I  imagine,  were  not  much  better 
informed  than  herself.  Sure  I  am,  that  any  pro- 
tection they  could  offer  me,  would  not,  in  the  least 
degree,  shield  me  from  the  secret  intrigue,  the 
affectionate,  maternal  embrace  of  holy  Mother 
Church. 

When  she  found  that,  notwithstanding  all  her 
offers,  I  was  resolved  to  go,  she  put  into  a  basket, 
a  change  of  clothing,  the  shoes  she  had  given  me, 
and  a  good  supply  of  food  which  she  gave  me  for 


^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


^  ilii  12.2 

■u  .3.  Mil 

Ui  liii 

Z  l£&  12.0 


L25  |||_U  ijA 


PhotDgraphic 

Sciences 

Corporaition 


r<\- 


\ 


<v 


<^ 


^^^-. 

^.v^ 


c^ 


23  WIST  MAIN  STMIT 

VyitSTIi,N.Y.  M5M 

(716)t72-4903 


172 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


Lri' 


future  use.  But  the  most  acceptable  part  of  her 
present  was  a  sun-bonnet ;  for  thus  far  I  had  noth- 
ing on  my  head  but  the  cap  I  wore  in  the  convent. 
She  gave  me  some  money,  and  bade  me  go  to 
Swanton,  and  there,  she  said,  I  could  take  the  cars. 
I  accordingly  bade  her  farewell,  and,  basket  in 
hand,  directed  my  steps  toward  the  depot  some 
seven  miles  distant,  as  I  was  informed;  but  I 
thought  it  a  long  seven  miles,  as  I  passed  over  it 
with  my  sore  feet,  the  blood  starting  at  every  step. 

On  my  arrival  at  the  depot,  a  man  came  to  me, 
and  asked  where  I  wished  to  go.  I  told  him  I 
wished  to  go  as  far  into  the  State  as  my  money 
would  carry  me.  He  procured  me  a  ticket,  and 
said  it  would  take  me  to  St.  Albans.  He  asked 
me  where  I  came  from,  but  I  begged  to  be  excused 
from  answering  questions.  He  then  conducted  me 
to  the  ladies  room,  and  left  me,  saying  the  cars 
would  be  along  in  about  an  hour. 

In  this  room,  several  ladies  were  waiting  to  take 
the  cars.  As  I  walked  across  the  room,  one  of 
them  said,  in  a  tone  that  grated  harshly  on  my 
feelings,  "  Your  skirt  is  below  your  dress."  I  did 
not  feel  very  good  natured,  and  instead  of  saying 
"  thank  you,"  as  I  should  have  done,  I  replied  in 
the  most  impudent  manner,  "  Well,  it  is  clean,  if 
it  is  in  sight."  The  lady  said  no  more,  and  I  sat 
down  upon  a  »ofa  and  fell  asleep.  As  I  awoke, 
one  of  the  ladies  said,  "  I  wonder  who  that  poor 
girl  is! "  I  was  bewildered,  and,  for  the  moment, 
could  not  think  where  I  was,  but  I  thought  I  must 


_^ 


WAITING  FOR  THE  CARS. 


173 


make  some  reply,  and  rousing  myself  I  turned  to 
her,  and  said,  "  I  am  a  nun,  if  you  wish  to  know, 
and  I  have  just  escaped  from  a  convent."  She 
gave  me  a  searching  look,  and  said,  "  Well,  I  must 
confess  you  do  look  like  one.  I  often  visit  in 
Montreal  where  I  see  a  great  many  of  them,  and 
they  always  look  poor  and  pale.  Will  you  allow 
me  to  ask  you  a  few  questions  ?  "  By  this  time,  I 
was  wide  awake,  and  realized  perfectly  where  I 
was,  and  the  folly  of  making  such  an  imprudent 
disclosure.  I  would  have  given  much  to  recall 
those  few  words,  for  I  had  a  kind  of  presentiment 
that  they  would  bring  me  trouble.  I  begged  to  be 
excused  from  answering  any  questions,  as  I  was 
almost  crazy  with  thinking  of  the  past  and  did  not 
wish  to  speak  of  it. 

The  lady  said  no  more  for  some  time,  but  she 
kept  her  eye  upon  me,  in  a  way  that  I  did  not  like ; 
and  I  began  to  consider  whether  I  had  better  wait 
for  the  cars,  or  start  on  foot.  I  was  sorry  for  my 
imprudence,  but  it  could  not  be  helped  now,  and  I 
must  do  the  best  I  could  to  avoid  the  unpleasant 
consequences  which  might  result  from  it.  I  had 
justMuade  up  my  mind  to  go  on,  when  I  heard  in 
the  far  distance,  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  approach- 
ing train ;  that  train  which  I  fondly  hoped  would 
bear  me  far  away  from  danger,  and  onward  to  the 
goal  of  my  desires. 

At  this  moment,  the  lady  crossed  the  room,  and 
seating  herself  by  my  side,  asked,  "  Would  you  not 
like  to  go  and  live  with  me  ?     I  have  one  waiting 

15* 


174 


LIFE   IN   THE   GREY   NUXNKlii, 


*^-» 


'iB 


If 

I! 

1  i  ■  1    : 

1  : 

maid  now,  but  I  wish  for  another,  and  if  you  will 
go,  I  will  take  you  and  give  you  good  wages. 
Your  work  will  not  be  hard ;  will  you  go  ? " 
«  Where  do  you  go  ?  "  I  asked.  "  To  Montreal," 
she  replied.  "  Then  I  shall  not  go  with  you,"  said 
I.  "  No  money  could  induce  me  to  return  there 
again."  "  Ah ! "  said  she,  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "  I 
see  how  it  is,  but  you  need  not  fear  to  trust  me. 
I  will  protect  you,  and  never  suffer  you  to  be 
taken  back  to  the  convent."  I  saw  that  I  had 
made  unconsciously  another  imprudent  revelation, 
and  resolved  to  say  no  more.  I  was  about  to  leave 
her,  but  she  drew  me  back  saying,  "  I  will  give  you 
some  of  my  clothes,  and  I  can  make  them  fit  you 
so  well  that  no  one  will  ever  recognize  you.  I 
shall  have  plenty  of  time  to  alter  them  if  they 
require  it,  for  the  train  that  I  go  in,  will  not  be 
along  for  about  three  ^ours ;  you  can  help  me, 
and  in  that  time  we  w       et  you  nicely  fixed." 

I  could  hardly  repress  a  smile  when  I  saw  how 
earnest  she  was,  and  I  thought  it  a  great  pity  that 
a  plan  so  nicely  laid  out  should  be  so  suddenly 
deranged,  but  1  could  not  listen  to  her  flatteries.  I 
suspected  that  she  was  herself  in  the  employ  of  the 
priests,  and  merely  wished  to  get  me  back  that  she 
might  betray  me.  She  had  the  appearance  of 
being  very  wealthy,  was  richly  clad,  wore  a  gold 
watch,  chain,  bracelets,  breastpin,  ear  rings,  and 
many  finger  rings,  all  of  the  finest  gold.  But 
with  all  her  wealth  and  kind  offers,  I  dare  not  trust 
her.    I  thought  she  looked  annoyed  when  I  refused 


'>  ' 


ESCAPED   A   SNARE. 


l75 


to  go  with  her,  but  when  I  rose  to  go  to  the  cars,  a 
look  of  angry  impatience  stole  over  her  fine  fea- 
tures, which  convinced  me  that  I  had  et.'.dped  a 
snare. 

The  cars  came  at  length,  and  I  was  soon  on  my 
way  to  St.  Albans.  I  was  very  sick,  and  asked  a 
gentleman  near  me  to  raise  the  windows.  He  did 
so,  and  inquired  how  far  I  was  going.  I  informed 
him,  when  he  remarked  that  he  was  somewhat 
acquainted  in  St.  Albans,  and  asked  with  whom  I 
designed  to  stop.  I  told  him  I  had  no  friends  or 
acquaintance  in  the  place,  but  I  hoped  to  get 
employment  in  some  protestant  family.  He  said 
he  could  direct  me  to  some  gentlemen  who  would, 
he  thought,  assist  me.  One  in  particular,  he  men- 
tionef*  as  being  a  very  wealthy  man,  and  kept  a 
number  of  servants;  perhaps  he  would  employ 
me. 

This  gentleman's  name  was  Branard,  and  my 
informant  spoke  so  highly  of  the  family,  I  immedi- 
ately sought  them  out  on  leaving  the  cars,  and 
was  at  once  employed  by  Mrs.  Branard,  as  a  seam- 
stress. Here  I  found  a  quiet,  happy  home.  Mrs. 
Branard  was  a  kind  sympathizing  woman,  and  to 
her,  I  confided  the  history  of  my  convent  life. 
She  would  not  allow  me  to  work  hard,  for  she  saw 
that  my  nerves  were  easily  excited.  She  made  me 
sit  with  her  in  her  own  room  a  great  part  of  the 
time,  and  did  not  wish  me  to  go  out  alone.  They 
had  several  boarders  in  the  family,  and  one  of 


nc 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


^'••i 


' ' !  I 


tliem  was  a  *  brother-in-law  to  Mrs.  Branard.  His 
name  I  have  forgotten ;  it  was  not  a  common 
name,  but  he  married  Mrs.  Branard's  sister,  and 
with  his  wife  resided  there  all  the  time  that  I  w^s 
with  them.  Mr.  Branard  was  away  from  home 
most  of  the  time,  so  that  I  saw  but  little  of  him. 
They  had  an  Irish  girl  in  the  kitchen,  named 
Betsy.  She  was  a  kind,  pleasant  girl,  and  she 
thought  me  a  strict  Eomanist  because  I  said  my 
prayers  so  often,  and  wore  the  Holy  Scapulary 
round  my  neck.  This  Scapulary  is  a  band  with  a 
cross  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other,  the  letters  "  J. 
H.  S."  which  signify,  "Jesus  The  Savior  of  Man." 
At  this  place  I  professed  great  regard  for  the 
Church  of  Rome,  and  no  one  but  Mrs.  Branard 
was  acquainted  with  my  real  character  and  history. 
When  they  asked  my  name,  I  told  them  they  could 
call  me  Margaret,  but  it  was  an  assumed  name. 
My  own,  for  reasons  known  only  by  myself,  I  did 
not  choose  to  reveal.  I  supposed,  of  course,  they 
would  regard  me  with  suspicion  for  a  while,  but  I 
saw  nothing  of  the  kind.  They  treated  me  with 
great  respect,  and  no  questions  were  ever  asked. 
Perhaps  I  did  wrong  in  changing  my  name,  but 
I  felt  that  I  was  justified  in  using  any  means  to  pre* 
serve  my  liberty. 

*  This  gentleman  was  Mr  Z.  K.  Pangborn,  late  editor  of  the 
Worcester  Daily  Transcript.  Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pangborn  give 
their  testimony  of  the  truth  of  this  statement. 


■'>^^' 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 


FLIGHT  AND  RECAPTURE. 


Four  happy  weeks  I  enjoyed  unalloyed  satisfac- 
tion in  the  bosom  of  this  charming  family.  It  was 
a  new  thing  for  me  to  feel  at  home,  contented,  and 
undisturbed;  to  have  every  one  around  me  treat 
me  with  kindness  and  even  affection.  I  sometimes 
feared  it  was  too  good  to  last.  Mrs.  Branard  in 
particular,  I  shall  ever  remember  with  grateful  and 
affectionate  regard.  She  was  more  like  a  mother 
to  me,  than  a  mistress,  and  I  shall  ever  look  back 
to  the  time  I  spent  with  her,  as  a  bright  spot  in  the 
otherwise  barren  desert  of  my  life.  Better,  far 
better  would  it  have  been  for  me  had  I  never  left 
her.  But  I  became  alarmed,  and  thought  the  con- 
vent people  were  after  me.  It  was  no  idle  whim, 
no  imaginary  terror.  I  had  good  cause  to  fear,  for 
I  had  several  times  seen  a  priest  go  past,  and  gaze 
attentively  at  the  house.  I  knew  him  at  the  first 
glance,  having  often  seen  him  in  Montreal. 

Then  my  heart  told  me  that  they  had  traced  me 
to  this  place,  and  were  now  watching  a  chance  to 
get  hold  of  me.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  my  feelings. 
Had  I  suffered  so  much  in  vain?  Would  they 
be  allowed  to  take  me  back  to  those  fcrful  cells, 


17S 


I.IVV.    IN    T!IK    (!I:F,V    Nl'NNlinV. 


4 


where  no  ray  of  mercy  could  ever  reach  me  ?  I 
could  not  endure  the  thought.  Frightened,  and 
almost  beside  myself,  I  resolved  to  make  an  effort 
to  find  a  more  secure  place.  I  therefore  left  those 
kind  friends  in  the  darkness  of  night,  without  ope 
word  of  farewell,  and  without  their  knowledge.  I 
knew  they  would  not  allow  me  to  go,  if  they  were 
apprised  of  my  design.  In  all  probability,  they 
would  have  ridiculed  my  fears,  and  bade  me  rest 
in  peace.  How  could  I  expect  them  to  comprehend 
my  danger,  when  they  knew  so  little  of  the  machi- 
nation of  my  foes  ?  I  intended  to  go  further  into 
the  state,  but  did  not  wish  to  have  any  one  know 
which  way  I  had  gone.  It  was  a  sad  mistake,  but 
how  often  in  this  world  do  we  plunge  into  danger 
when  we  seek  to  avoid  it !  How  often  fancy  our- 
selves in  security  when  we  stand  upon  the  very 
brink  of  ruin! 

I  left  Mr.  Branard's  in  the  evening,  and  called 
upon  a  family  in  the  neighborhood  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  had  made,  and  whom  I  wished  to  see  once 
more,  though  I  dared  not  say  farewell.  I  left  them 
between  the  hours  of  nine  and  ten,  and  set  forward 
on  my  perilous  journey.  I  had  gone  but  a  short 
distance  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  wheels  and 
the  heavy  tread  of  horses'  feet  behind  me.  My 
heart  beat  with  such  violence  it  almost  stopped  my 
breath,  for  I  felt  that  they  were  after  me.  But 
there  was  no  escape  —  no  forest  or  shelter  near 
where  I  could  seek  protection.  On  came  the  furi- 
ous beasts,  driven  by  no  gentle  hand.    They  came 


TAKEN  BACK  TO  MONTREAL. 


179 


up  with  me,  and  I  almost  began  to  hope  that  my 
fears  were  groundless,  when  the  horses  suddenly 
stopped,  a  strong  hand  grasped  me,  a  gag  was 
thrust  into  my  mouth,  and  again  the  well-known 
box  was  taken  from  the  wagon.  Another  moment 
and  I  was  securely  caged,  and  on  my  way  back  to 
Montreal.  Two  men  were  in  the  wagon  and  two 
rode  on  horseback  beside  it.  Four  men  to  guard 
one  poor  nun ! 

They  drove  to  Mt.  Bly,  where  they  stopped  to 
change  horses,  and  the  two  men  on  horseback 
remained  there,  while  the  other  two  mounted  the 
wagon  and  drove  to  Sorel.  Here  the  box  was 
taken  out  and  carried  on  board  a  boat,  where  two 
priests  were  waiting  for  me.  When  the  boat 
started,  they  took  me  out  for  the  first  time  after  I 
was  put  into  it  at  St.  Albans.  Three  days  we  had 
been  on  the  way,  and  I  had  tasted  neither  food 
nor  drink.  How  little  did  I  think  when  I  took  my 
tea  at  Mr.  Branard's  the  night  I  left  that  it  was  the 
last  refreshment  I  would  have  for  ^i-Dsn  daps ;  yet 
such  was  the  fact.  And  how  little  did  they  think, 
as  they  lay  in  their  quiet  beds  that  night,  that  the 
poor  fugitive  they  had  taken  to  their  home  was 
fleeing  for  life,  or  for  that  which,  to  her,  was  better 
than  life.  Yet  so  it  was.  Bitterly  did  I  reproach 
myself  for  leaving  those  kind  friends  as  I  did,  for 
I  thought  perhaps  if  I  had  remained  there,  they 
would  not  have  dared  to  touch  me.  Such  were 
my  feelings  then ;  but  as  I  now  look  back,  I  can 
see    that   it  would    have   made    little    difference 


\ 


180 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY   NUNNERY. 


:   1 
i           1 

i  i!     ; 

1 

"1 

11 

,  1     : 

1 

ijl  ' 

whether  I  left  or  remained.  They  were  bound  to 
get  me,  at  all  events,  and  if  I  had  stopped  there 
until  they  despaired  of  catching  me  secretly,  they 
would  undoubtedly  have  come  with  an  officer,  and 
accused  me  of  some  crime,  as  a  pretext  for  taking 
me  away.  Then,  had  any  one  been  so  far  inter- 
ested for  me  as  to  insist  on  my  having  a  fair  trial, 
how  easy  for  them  to  produce  witnesses  enough 
to  condemn  me !  Those  priests  have  many  ways 
to  accomplish  their  designs.  The  American  peo- 
ple don't  know  them  yet ;  God  grant  they  never 
may. 

On  my  arrival  at  the  nunnery  I  was  taken  down 
the  coal  grate,  and  fastened  to  an  iron  ring  in  the 
back  part  of  a  cell.  The  Archbishop  then  came 
down  and  read  my  punishment.  Notwithstanding 
the  bitter  grief  that  oppressed  my  spirit,  I  could 
not  repress  a  smile  of  contempt  as  the  great  man 
entered  my  cell.  I  remembered  that  before  I  ran 
away,  my  punishments  were  assigned  by  a  priest, 
but  the  first  time  I  fled  from  them  a  Bishop  con- 
descended to  read  my  sentence,  and  now  his  honor 
the  Archbishop  graciously  deigned  to  illume  my 
dismal  cell  with  the  light  of  his  countenance,  and 
Ms  own  august  lips  pronounced  the  words  of  doom. 
Was  I  rising  in  their  esteem,  or  did  they  think  to 
frighten  me  into  obedience  by  the  grandeur  of  his 
majestic  mien  ? 

Such  were  my  thoughts  as  this  illustrious  per- 
sonage proceeded  slowly,  and  with  suitable  dignity, 
to  unroll  the  document  that  would  decide  my  fate. 


CONSOLING  THOUGHT. 


181 


What  would  it  be?  Death?  It  might  be  for 
aught  I  knew,  or  cared  to  know.  I  had  by  this 
time  become  perfectly  reckless,  and  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding seemed  so  ridiculous,  I  found  it  exceed- 
ingly difficult  to  maintain  a  demeanor  sufficiently 
solemn  for  the  occasion.  But  when  the  fixed 
decree  came  for^h,  when  the  sentence  fell  upon  my 
ear  that  condemned  me  to  seven  days^  starvation^ 
it  sobered  me  at  once.  Yet  even  then  the  feeling 
of  indignation  was  so  strong  within  me,  I  could  not 
hold  my  peace.  I  would  speak  to  that  man,  if  he 
lulled  me  for  it.  Looking  him  full  in  the  face 
(which,  by  the  way,  I  knew  was  considered  by  him  a 
great  crime),  I  asked,  "  Do  you  ever  expect  to  die  ?  " 
I  did  not,  of  course,  expect  an  answer,  but  he  replied, 
with  a  smile,  "  Yes ;  but  you  will  die  first."  He 
then  asked  how  long  I  had  fasted,  and  I  replied, 
"  Three  days."  He  said,  "  You  will  fast  four  days 
more,  and  you  will  be  punished  every  day  until 
next  December,  when  you  will  take  the  black  veil." 
As  he  was  leaving  the  room,  he  remarked,  **  We 
do  not  usually  have  the  nuns  take  the  black  veil 
until  they  j*re  twenty-one ;  but  you  have  such  good 
luck  in  getting  away,  we  mean  to  put  you  where 
you  can 't  do  it."  And  with  this  consoling  thought 
he  left  me  —  left  me  in  darkness  and  despair,  to 
combat,  as  best  I  could,  the  horrors  of  starvation. 
This  was  in  the  early  part  of  winter,  and  only 
about  a  year  would  transpire  before  I  entered  that 
retreat  from  which  none  ever  returned.  And  then 
to  be  punished  every  day  for  a  year!     What  a 

16 


^ 


'> 


182 


LIFE  IN  THE  QRET  NUNNERY. 


't  ' 


prospect !  The  priest  came  every  morning,  with 
his  dark  lantern,  to  look  a^  me;  but  he  never 
spoke.  On  the  second  day  a.  it  my  return,  I  told 
him  if  he  would  bring  me  a  little  piece  of  bread, 
I  would  never  attempt  to  run  away  again,  but 
would  serve  him  faithfully  the  rest  of  my  life.  Had 
he  given  it  to  me,  I  would  have  faithfully  kept  my 
word ;  but  he  did  not  notice  me,  and  closing  the 
door,  he  left  me  once  more  to  pass  through  all  the 
agonies  of  starvation.  I  remember  nothing  after 
that  day.  Whether  I  remained  in  the  cell  the 
other  two  days,  or  was  taken  out  before  the  time 
expired,  I  do  not  know.  This  much,  however,  I 
do  know,  as  a  general  rule  a  nun's  punishment  is 
never  remitted.  If  she  lives,  it  is  well ;  if  she  dies, 
no  matter ;  there  are  enough  more,  and  no  one  will 
ever  call  them  to  an  account  for  the  murder. 

But  methinks  I  hear  the  reader  ask,  "  Did  they 
not  fear  the  judgment  of  God  and  a  future  retribu- 
tion ?"  In  reply  I  can  only  state  what  I  believe  to 
be  the  fact  It  is  my  firm  belief  that  not  more 
than  one  priest  in  teu  thousand  really  believes  in 
the  truth  of  Christianity,  or  even  in  the  existence 
of  a  God.  They  are  all  Infidels  or  Atheists ;  and 
how  can  they  be  otherwise  ?  It  is  the  legitimate 
fruit  of  that  system  of  deceit  which  they  call 
religion.  Of  course  I  only  give  this  as  my  opinion, 
founded  on  what  I  have  seen  and  heard.  You  can 
take  it,  reader,  for  what  it  is  worth ;  believe  it  or 
not,  just  as  you  please ;  but  I  assure  you  I  have 
often  heard  the  nuns  say  that  they  did  not  believe 


RETUIININO   CONSCIOUSNESS. 


1F3 


ng,  with 

he  never 

rn,  I  told 

of  bread, 

gain,  but 

afe.    Had 

^j  kept  my 

losing  the 

igh  all  the 

.thing  after 

le  cell  the 

e  the  time 
however,  I 

nishment  is 

if  she  dies, 

no  one  will 

arder. 

:,u  Did  they 

iture  retribu- 
1 1  believe  to 
at  not  more 
y  believes  in 
the  existence 
Uheists;  and 
he  legitimate 
ich  they  call 
.8  my  opinion, 
ird.    You  can 
believe  it  or 
e  you  I  have 
[id  not  beUeve 


in  any  religion.  The  professions  of  holiness  of 
heart  and  purity  of  life  so  often  made  by  the  priests 
they  know  to  be  nothing  but  a  hypocritical  pre- 
tence, and  their  ceremonies  they  regard  as  a  ridic- 
ulous farce. 

For  some  time  after  I  was  taken  from  the  cell 
I  lay  in  a  state  of  partial  unconsciousness,  but  how 
long,  I  do  not  know.  I  have  no  recollection  of 
being  taken  up  stairs,  but  I  found  myself  on  my 
bed,  in  my  old  room,  and  on  the  stand  beside  me 
were  several  cups,  vials,  etc.  The  Abbess  who 
sat  beside  me,  occasionally  gave  me  a  lea-spoon- 
ful of  wine  or  brandy,  and  tried  to  make  me  eat. 
Ere  long,  my  appetite  returned,  but  it  was  several 
weeks  before  my  stomach  was  strong  enough  to 
enable  me  to  satisfy  in  any  degree,  the  cravings  of 
hunger.  When  I  could  eat,  I  gained  very  fast, 
and  the  Abbess  left  me  in  the  care  of  a  nun,  who 
came  in  occasionally  to  see  if  I  wanted  anything. 
This  nun  often  stopped  to  talk  with  me,  when  she 
thought  no  one  was  near,  and  expressed  great  curi- 
osity to  know  what  I  saw  in  the  world ;  if  people 
were  kind  to  me,  and  if  I  did  not  mean  to  get 
away  tigain,  if  possible.  I  told  her  I  should  not ; 
but  she  replied,  "  I  don't  believe  that.  You  will 
try  again,  and  you  will  succeed  yet,  if  you  keep 
up  good  courage.  You  are  so  good  to  work,  they 
do  not  wish  to  part  with  you,  and  that  is  one  rea- 
son why  they  try  so  hard  to  get  you  back  again. 
But  never  mind,  they  won't  get  you  next  time." 
I  assured  her  I  should  not  try  to  escape  again,  for 


184 


I.irE   IN   THE    GREY   KUNNIRY. 


1^ 


'Hl^ 


li 


u 


i 


i! 


they  were  sure  to  catch  me,  and  as  they  had 
almost  killed  me  this  time,  they  would  quite  the 
next.  I  did  not  dare  to  trust  her,  for  I  supposed 
the  Superior  had  given  her  orders  to  question  me. 

I  was  still  weak,  so  weak  that  I  could  hardly 
walk  when  they  obliged  me  to  go  into  the  kitchen 
to  clean  vegetables  and  do  other  light  work,  and  as 
soon  as  I  had  sufficient  strength,  to  milk  the  cows, 
and  take  the  care  of  the  milk.  They  punished  me 
every  day,  in  accordance  with  the  Bishop's  order, 
and  sometimes,  I  thought,  more  than  he  intended. 
I  wore  thorns  on  my  head,  and  peas  in  my  shoes, 
was  whipped  and  pinched,  burnt  with  hot  irons, 
and  made  to  crawl  through  the  underground  pas- 
sage I  have  before  described.  In  short,  I  was  tor- 
tured and  punished  in  every  possible  way,  until  I 
was  weary  of  my  life.  Still  they  were  careful  not 
to  go  so  far  as  to  disable  me  from  work.  They  did 
not  care  how  much  I  suffered,  if- 1  only  performed 
my  daily  task. 

There  was  an  underground  passage  leading  from 
the  nunnery  to  a  place  which  they  called,  "  Provi- 
dence," in  the  south  part  of  the  city.  I  do  not 
know  whether  it  is  a  school,  or  a  convent,  or  what 
it  is,  but  I  think  it  must  be  some  distance,  from 
what  I  heard  said  about  it.  The  priest  often  spoke 
of  sending  me  there,  but  for  some  reason,  he  did 
not  make  me  go.  Still  the  frequent  reference  to 
what  I  so  much  dreaded,  kept  me  in  constant 
apprehension  and  alarm.  I  have  heard  the  priest 
say  that  underground  passages  extended  from  the 


UNDERG HOUND   PASSAGES. 


185 


convent  in  every  direction,  for  a  distance  of  five 

miles ;  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  the  statement 

is  true.    But  these  reasons  I  may  not  attempt  to 

give.     There  are  things  that  may  not   even  be 

alluded  to,  and  if  it  were  possible  to  speak  of  them, 

who  would  believe  the  story  ? 
16* 


*>i 


^ 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


li 


RESOLVES    TO    ESCAPE. 

t. 

As  summer  approached,  I  expected  to  be  sent 
to  the  farm  again,  but  for  some  reason  I  was  still 
employed  in  the  kitchen.  Yet  I  could  not  keep 
my  mind  upon  my  work.  The  one  great  object 
of  my  life;  the  subject  that  continually  pressed 
upon  my  mind  was  the  momentous  question,  how 
shall  I  escape  ?  The  dreaded  December  was  rap- 
idly approaching.  To  some  it  would  bring  a  joy- 
ous festival,  but  to  me,  the  black  veil  and  a  life 
long  imprisonment.  Once  within  those  dreary 
walls,  and  I  might  as  well  hope  to  escape  from 
the  grave.  Such  are  the  arrangements,  there  is  no 
chance  for  a  nun  to  escape  unless  she  is  promoted 
to  the  office  of  Abbess  or  Superior.  Of  course, 
but  few  of  them  can  hope  for  this,  especially,  if 
they  are  not  contented ;  and  certainly,  in  my  case 
there  was  not  the  least  reason  to  expect  anything 
of  the  kind.  Knowing  these  facts,  with  the  hor- 
rors of  the  Secret  Cloister  ever  before  me,  I  felt 
some  days  as  though  on  the  verge  of  madness. 
Before  the  nuns  take  the  black  veil,  and  enter  this 
tomb  for  the  living,  they  are  put  into  a  room  by 
themselves,  called  the  forbidden  closet,  where  they 


'«' 


0  be  sent 

1  was  still 
L  not  keep 
feat  object 
[ly  pressed 
3stion,  how 
erwas  rap- 
3ring  a  joy- 

and  a  life 
lose  dreary 
5scape  from 
,  there  is  no 
is  promoted 

Of  course, 
especially)  if 
,  in  my  case 
Bct  anything 
ath  the  hor- 
re  me,  I  felt 

of  madness. 
,nd  enter  this 
3  a  room  by 
it,  where  they 


THE  FORBIDDEN  CLOSET. 


187 


spend  six  months  in  studying  the  Black  Book. 
Perchance,  the  reader  will  remember  that  when  I 
first  came  to  this  nunnery,  I  was  taken  by  the  door- 
tender  to  this  forbidden  closet,  and  permitted  to 
look  in  upon  the  wretched  inmates.  From  that 
time  I  always  had  the  greatest  horror  of  that  room. 
I  was  never  allowed  to  enter  it,  and  in  fact  never 
wished  to  do  so,  but  I  have  heard  the  most  agoniz- 
ing groans  from  those  within,  and  sometimes  I 
have  heard  them  laugh.  Not  a  natural,  hearty 
laugh,  however,  such  as  we  hear  from  the  gay  and 
happy,  but  a  strange,  terrible,  sound  which  I  can- 
not describe,  and  which  sent  a  thrill  of  terror 
through  my  frame,  and  seemed  to  chill  the  very 
blood  in  my  veins. 

I  have  heard  the  priests  say,  when  conversing 
with  each  other,  while  I  was  tidying  their  room, 
that  many  of  these  nuns  lose  their  reason  while 
studying  the  Black  Book.  I  can  well  believe  this, 
for  never  in  my  life  did  I  ever  witness  an  expres- 
sion of  such  unspeakable,  unmitigated  anguish, 
such  helpless  and  utter  despair  as  I  saw  upon  the 
faces  of  those  nuns.  And  w^U  they  may  despair. 
Kept  under  lock  and  key,  their  windows  barred, 
and  no  air  admitted  to  the  room  except  what 
comes  through  the  iron  grate  of  their  windows 
from  other  apartments;  compelled  to  study,  I  know 
not  what ;  with  no  hope  of  the  least  mitigation  of 
their  sufferings,  or  relaxation  of  the  stringent  rules 
that  bind  them ;  no  prospect  before  them  but  a  life- 
long imprisonment ;  what  have  they  to  hope  for  ? 


■i 


gDJHIgl 


H 


188 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


Surely,  death  and  the  grave  are  the  only  things  to 
which  they  can  look  forward  with  the  least  degree 
of  satisfaction. 

Those  nuns  selected  for  this  Secret  Cloister  are 
generally  the  fairest,  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
whole  number.  I  used  to  see  them  in  the  chapel, 
and  some  of  them  were  very  handsome.  They 
dressed  like  the  other  nuns,  and  always  looked  sad 
and  broken  hearted,  but  were  not  pale  and  thin 
like  the  rest  of  us.  I  am  sure  they  were  not  kept 
upon  short  allowance  as  the  others  were,  and  star- 
vation was  not  one  of  their  punishments,  whatever 
else  they  might  endure.  The  plain  looking  girls 
were  always  selected  to  work  in  the  kitchen,  and 
do  the  drudgery  about  the  house.  How  often  have 
I  thanked  God  for  my  plain  face !  But  for  that,  I 
might  not  have  been  kept  in  the  kitchen  so  long, 
and  thus  found  means  to  escape  which  I  certainly 
could  not  have  found  elsewhere. 

With  all  my  watching,  and  planning  I  did  not 
find  an  opportunity  to  get  away  till  June.  I  then 
succeeded  in  getting  outside  the  convent  yard  one 
evening  between  eight  and  nine  o'clock.  How  I 
got  there,  is  a  secret  I  shall  -ilfeVer  reveal.  A  few 
yards  from  the  gate  I  was  stopped  by  one  of  the 
guard  at  the  Barrack,  who  asked  where  I  was 
going.  "  To  visit  a  sick  woman,"  I  promptly 
replied,  and  he  let  me  pass.  Soon  after  this,  before 
my  heart  ceased  to  flutter,  I  thought  I  heard  some 
one  running  after  me.  My  resolution  was  at  once 
taken.    I  would  never  be  caught  and  carried  back 


FIVE  PRITISTS  IN  PURSUIT. 


189 


tiiiigs  to 
t  degree 

►ister  are 
1  of  the 
e  chapel, 
1.     They 
)oked  sad 
and  thin 
not  kept 
and  star- 
,  whatever 

.king  girls 
tchen,  and 
often  have 
;  for  that,  1 
en  so  long, 
I  certainly 

g  I  did  not 
ine.    I  then 
nt  yard  one 
ck.    How  I 
eal.    A  few 
V  one  of  the 
vhere  I  was 
I  promptly 
;r  this,  before 

:  heard  some 
was  at  once 
carried  back 


alive.  My  fate  was  at  last,  I  thought,  in  my  own 
hands.  Better  die  at  once  than  to  be  chained  like 
a  guilty  criminal,  and  suffer  as  I  had  done  before. 
Blame  me  not  gentle  reader,  when  I  tell  you  that  I 
stood  upon  the  bank  of  the  river  with  exultant 
joy;  and,  as  I  pursued  my  way  along  the  tow-path, 
ready  to  spring  into  the  water  on  the  first  indica- 
tion of  danger,  I  rejoiced  over  the  disappointment 
of  my  pursuers  in  losing  a  servant  who  had  done 
them  so  good  service.  At  a  little  distance  I  saw 
a  ferry  boat,  but  when  I  asked  the  captain  to  carry 
me  over  the  river,  he  refused.  He  was,  probably, 
afraid  of  the  police  and  a  fine,  for  no  one  can  assist 
a  run-away  nun  with  impunity,  if  caught  in  the 
act.  He  directed  me,  however,  to  the  owner  of 
the  boat,  who  said  I  could  go  if  the  captain  was 
willing  to  carry  me.  I  knew  very  well  that  he 
would  not,  and  I  took  my  place  in  the  boat  as 
though  I  had  a  perfect  right  to  it. 

We  were  almost  across  the  river,  when  the  cap- 
tain saw  me,  and  gave  orders  to  turn  back  the  boat, 
and  leave  me  on  the  shore  from  whence  we  started. 
From  his  appearance  I  thought  we  were  pursued, 
and  I  was  not  mistaken.  Five  priests  were  follow- 
ing us  in  another  boat,  and  they  too,  turned  back, 
and  reached  the  shore  almost  as  soon  as  we  did.  I 
left  the  boat  and  ran  for  my  life.  I  was  now  sure 
that  I  was  pursued ;  there  could  be  no  doubt  of 
that,  for  the  sound  of  footsteps  behind  me  came 
distinct  to  my  ear.  At  a  little  distance  stood  a 
small,  white  house.     Could  I  not  reach  it  ?  Would 


jBMMi 


■  ' 


H/ 


li!i 


'■'.1 

" 


•1 


f 


I 


I 


190 


LIFE   IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


not  the  people  protect  me  ?  The  thought  gave  me 
courage,  and  I  renewed  my  efforts.  Nearer  came 
the  footsteps,  but  I  reached  the  house,  and  without 
knocking,  or  asking  permission,  I.  sprang  through 
the  door. 

The  people  were  in  bed,  in  another  room,  but  a 
man  looked  out,  and  asked  what  I  wanted.  "  I'm 
a  nun,"  said  I.  "  I've  run  away  from  the  Grey 
Nunnery,  and  they're  after  me.  Hide  me,  O  hide 
me,  and  God  will  bless  you !  "  As  I  spoke  he  put 
out  his  hand  and  opened  the  cellar  door.  "  Here," 
said  he,  "  run  down  cellar,  I'll  be  with  you  in  a 
moment."  I  obeyed,  and  he  struck  a  light  and 
followed.  Pointing  to  a  place  where  he  kept 
ashes,  he  said  hastily,  "  Crawl  in  there."  There 
was  not  a  moment  to  lose,  for  before  he  had  cov- 
ered up  my  hiding  place,  a  loud  knock  was  heard 
upon  the  front  door.  Having  extinguished  his 
light,  he  ran  up  stairs,  and  opened  the  door  with 
the  appearance  of  having  just  left  his  bed.  "  "Who 
is  here  ?  "  he  asked,  "  and  what  do  you  want  this 
time  of  night?  One  of  them  replied,  "We  are 
in  search  of  a  nun,  and  are  very  sure  she  came  in 
here  ?  "  "  "Well  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "walk  in,  and 
see  for  yourselves.  If  she  is  here,  you  are  at  lib- 
erty to  find  her."  Lighting  a  candle,  he  proceeded 
to  guide  them  over  the  house,  which  they  searched 
until  they  were  satisfied.  They  then  came  down 
cellar,  and  I  gave  up  all  hope  of  escape.  Still,  I 
resolved  never  to  be  taken  alive.  I  could  strangle 
myself,  and  I  would  do  it,  rather  than  suffer  as  I 


STILL  IN  DANGER. 


191 


did  before.  At  that  moment  I  could  truly  say 
with  the  inspired  penman,  with  whose  lan- 
guage I  have  since  become  familiar,  "my  soul 
chooseth  strangling  and  death  rather  than  life." 

They  looked  all  around  me,  and  even  into  the 
place  where  I  lay  concealed,  but  they  did  not  find 
me.  At  length  I  heard  them  depart,  and  so  great 
was  my  joy,  I  could  hardly  restrain  my  feelings 
within  the  bounds  of  decorum.  I  felt  as  though  I 
must  dance  and  sing,  shout  aloud  or  leap  for  joy  at 
my  great  deliverance.  I  am  sure  I  should  have 
committed  some  extravagant  act  had  not  the  gen- 
tleman  at  that  moment  called  me  up,  and  told  me 
that  my  danger  was  by  no  means  past.  This 
information  so  dashed  my  cup  of  bliss  that  I  was 
able  to  drink  it  quietly. 

He  gave  me  some  refreshment,  and  as  soon  as 
safety  would  permit,  saddled  his  horse,  and  taking 
me  on  behind  him,  carried  me  six  miles  to  another 
boat,  put  me  on  board,  and  paid  the  captain  three 
dollars  to  carry  me  to  Laprairie.  On  leaving  me, 
he  gave  me  twenty-five  cents,  and  said,  "  you'll  be 
caught  if  you  go  with  the  other  passengers."  The 
captain  said  he  could  hide  me  and  no  one  know 
that  I  was  on  board,  but  himself.  He  led  me  to 
the  -end  of  the  boat,  and  put  me  upon  a  board  over 
the  horses.  He  fixed  a  strong  cord  for  me  to  hold 
on  by,  and  said,  "  you  must  be  careful  and  not  fall 
down,  for  the  horses  would  certainly  kill  you  before 
you  could  be  taken  out."  The  captain  was  very 
kind  to  me  and  when  I  left  him,  gave  me  twenty- 


'1 

J, 


1 


•# 


i.  :.' 


192 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


five  cents,  and  some  good  advice.  He  said  I  must 
hurry  along  as  fast  as  possible,  for  it  was  Jubilee, 
and  the  priests  would  all  be  in  church  at  four 
o'clock.  He  also  advised  me  not  to  stop  in  any 
place  where  a  Romish  priest  resided,  "for,"  said  he, 
"  tbe  convent  people  have,  undoubtedly,  telegraphed 
all  over  the  country  giving  a  minute  description  of 
your  person,  and  the  priests  will  all  be  looking  for 
you." 

Two  days  I  travelled  as  fast  as  my  strength 
would  allow,  when  I  came  to  Sorel,  which  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river.  Here  I  saw  several 
priests  on  the  road  coming  directly  towards  me. 
That  they  were  after  me,  I  had  not  a  doubt. 
Whither  should  I  flee?  To  escape  by  running, 
was  out  of  the  question,  but  just  at  that  moment 
my  eye  fell  upon  a  boat  near  the  shore.  I  ran  to 
the  captain,  and  asked  him  to  take  me  across  the 
river.  He  consented,  and,  as  I  expected,  the  priests 
took  another  boat  and  followed  us.  Once  more  I 
gave  myself  up  for  lost,  and  prepared  to  spring 
into  the  water,  if  they  were  likely  to  overtake  me. 
The  man  understood  my  feelings,  and  exerted  all 
his  strength  to  urge  forward  the  boat.  At  last  it 
reached  the  shore,  and  as  he  helped  me  out  he 
whispered,  "  Now  run."  I  did  run,  but  though  my 
own  liberty  was  at  stake  I  could  not  help  thinking 
about  the  consequences  to  that  man  if  I  escaped, 
for  I  knew  they  would  make  him  pay  a  heavy  fine 
for  his  benevolent  act.  A  large  house  stood  in  my 
way,  and  throwing  open   the  door  I  exclaimed, 


'.%• 


■^ 


OHANOEMEK. 


UiH 


"  Are  there  any  protestants  here  ?"  **  O,  yes," 
replied  a  man  who  sat  there,  *'  come  with  me."  He 
led  me  to  the  kitchen,  where  a  large  company  of 
Irish  men  were  rolling  little  balls  on  a  table.  I 
saw  the  men  were  Iri^h,  and  my  first  thought  was, 
"  I  am  betrayed." 

But  my  fears  were  soon  relieved,  for  the  man 
exclaimed,  "  Here  is  a  nun,  inquiring  for  protest- 
ants." **  Well,"  replied  one  who  seemed  to  be 
a  leader,  *^  this  is  the  right  place  to  find  them.  We 
are  all  true  Orange  men."  And  then  they  all  began 
to  shout,  <*  Down  with  the  Catholics !  Down  with 
the  Pope!  Death  to  the  Jesuits!  etc."  I  was 
frightened  at  their  violence,  but  their  leader  came 
to  me,  and  with  the  kindness  of  a  brother,  said, 
*<  Do  not  fear  us.  If  you  are  a  run-away,  we  will 
protect  you.  He  bade  the  men  be  still,  and  asked 
if  any  one  was  after  rae."  I  told  him  about  the 
priests,  and  he  replied,  *<you  have  come  to  the 
'right  place  for  protection,  for  they  dare  not  show 
themselves  here.  I  am  the  leader  of  a  band  of 
Anti-Catholics,  and  this  is  their  lodge.  You  have 
heard  of  us,  I  presume ;  we  are  called  Orange  men. 
Our  object  is,  to  overthrow  the  Roman  C'atholic 
religion,  and  we  are  bound  by  the  most  fearful 
oaths  to  stand  by  each  other,  and  (Mrotect  all  who 
seek  our  aid.  The  priests  dread  our  influence,  for 
we  have  many  members,  and  I  hope  ere  long,  the 
power  of  the  Pope  in  this  country  will  be  at  an 
end.    I  am  sure  people  must  see  what  a  cruel, 

hypocritical  set  they  are." 
17 


: 


li    "i 


se 


III 


1 


194 


MFK   IN  TUE  OREY  NUNNERY. 


t 


I     ! 


/  ( 

; 

\ 

I 

•>: 

: 

(^       1 

1 

i,i 

Before  he  had  done  speaking,  a  man  came  to  the 
door  and  said,  "  The  carriage  is  ready."  Another 
of  the  men,  on  hearing  this,  said,  «  Come  with  me, 
and  ril  take  you  out  of  tlie  reach  of  the  priests." 
He  conducted  me  to  a  carriage,  which  was  covered 
and  the  curtains  all  fastened  down.  He  helped 
me  into  it,  directing  me  to  sit  upon  the  back  seat, 
where  I  could  not  be  seen  by  any  one  unless  they 
took  particular  pains.  He  drove  to  St.  Oars  that 
night,  and,  if  I  remember  right,  he  said  the  distance 
was  twelve  miles.  When  he  left  me  he  gave  me 
twenty-five  cents.  I  travelled  all  night,  and  about 
midnight  passed  through  St.  Dennis.  But  I  did 
not  stop  until  the  next  morning,  when  I  called  at 
a  house  and  asked  for  something  to  eat.  The  lady 
gave  me  some  bread  and  milk,  and  I  again  pursued 
my  way. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


EVENTFUL  JOURNEY. 


Once  more  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  obtain  a 
passage  across  the  river  in  a  ferry-boat,  and  was 
soon  pressing  onward  upon  the  other  side.  Passing 
through  two  places  called  St.  Mary's  and  St  John's, 
I  followed  the  railroad  to  a  village  which  I  was 
informed  was  called  Stotsville,*  a  great  part  of 
the  property  being  owned  by  a  Mr.  Stots,  to  whom 
I  was  at  once  directed.  Here  I  stopped,  and  was 
kindly  received  by  the  gentleman  and  his  wife. 
They  offered  ihe  refreshments,  gave  me  some  arti- 
cles of  clothing,  and  then  he  carried  me  twelve 
miles,  and  left  me  at  Bouse.'s  Point,  to  take  the 
cars  for  Albany.  He  gave  me  six  doUars  to  pay 
my  expenses,  and  a  letter  of  introduction  to  a  gen- 
tleman by  the  name  of  Williams,  in  which  he 
stated  all  the  facts  he  knew  concerning  me,  and 
commended  me  to  his  care  for  protection.  I  think 
he  said  Mr.  Williams  lived  on  North  Pearl  street, 
but  I  may  be  mistaken  in  this  and  also  in  some 


^  I  beg  leave  once  more  to  remind  the  reader  that  it  is  by  no 
means  certain  that  I  give  these  names  correctly.  Hearing  them 
pronounced,  with  no  idea  of  ever  referring  to  them  again,  it  is  not 
strange  that  mistakes  of  this  kind  should  occur. 


h    t 


1- 


(■I/ 


^^.r  1 


III! 


196 


LIFE  IN  THE  ORET  NUNNEBY. 


other  particulars.  As  I  had  no  thought  of  relating 
these  facts  at  the  time  of  their  •  jcarreoce,  I  did 
not  fix  them  in  my  mind  as  I  otherwise  should 
have  done. 

Mr.  Stots  said  that  if  I  could  not  find  the  gen- 
tleman to  whom  the  letter  was  directed,  I  waa  to 
take  it  to  the  city  authorities,  and  they  would  pro- 
tect me.  As  he  assisted  me  from  the  carri  ir,e  he 
said, "  You  will  stop  here  until  the  cars  come  :iU  ii,g, 
and  you  must  get  your  own  ticket.  I  shall  not. 
notice  you  again,  and  I  do  not  wish  you  to  ppeak 
to  me."  I  entered  the  depot  intending  to  follow 
his  directions ;  but  when  I  found  the  cars  would 
not  come  along  for  three  hours,  I  did  not  dare  to 
stay.  There  was  quite  a  large  collection  of  people 
there,  and  I  feared  that  some  one  would  suspect 
and  atop  me.  I  therefore  resolved  to  follow  the 
railroad,  and  walk  on  to  the  next  station.  On  my 
way  I  passed  over  a  railroad  bridge,  which  I  should 
think  was  two  miles  long.  The  wind  blew  very 
hard  at  the  time,  and  I  found  it  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult to  walk  upon  the  narrow  timbers.  More  than 
once  I  came  near  losing  my  precarious  footing,  and 
I  was  in  constant  fear  that  the  train  would  over- 
take me  before  I  got  over.  In  that  case  I  had 
resolved  to  step  outsine  Tv"  irack  where  I  thought 
I  could  stand  upon  )  Ig  uf  the  b^iage  and  hold 
on  by  the  telegraph  poles,  and  thus  let  them  pass 
without  doing  me  injury.  Happily,  however,  I 
was  not  compelled  to  resort  to  this  perilous  expe- 
dient, but  passed  the  bridge  in  safety.     At  the 


"are  you  mad?" 


197 


end  I  found  "  nothei  n^iiTly  as  long,  connected  with 
it  by  a  drawbridgr  When  I  drew  near  it  was  up 
for  a  boat  lo  pass ;  but  a  pnan  called  to  me,  and 
asked  if  I  wish  fo  go  over.  I  tdd  him  I  di  I,  and 
he  let  down  the  bridge.  As  I  approached  him  he 
asked,  "  Are  you  mad  ?  or  how  came  yo«  here  ?  " 
I  told  him  I  had  walked  from  the  depot  at  Rouse's 
Point.  He  appeared  greatly  surprii»ed,  and  said, 
"  You  are  the  first  person  who  ever  walked  over 
that  bridge.  Will  you  come  to  my  house  and  rest 
awhile  ?  You  must  be  very  weary,  and  my  wife 
will  be  glad  to  see  you.  She  is  rather  lonely  here, 
and  is  pleased  to  see  any  one.  W'U  you  come  ? 
'Tis  only  a  short  distance,  just  down  under  the 
bridge."  Those  last  words  decided  me.  I  thanked 
him,  but  firmly  refused  to  go  one  step  out  of  my  way. 
I  thought  that  he  wished  to  deceive  me,  perhaps 
take  me  to  some  out-of-the-way  place,  and  give 
me  up  to  my  pursuers.  At  all  events,  it  was  wise 
not  to  trust  him,  for  I  was  sure  there  was  no  house 
near  the  bridge,  certainly  not  under  i  .  I  have 
since  learned  that  such  is  the  fact.  As  I  turned 
to  leave  him,  he  again  urged  me  to  stop,  and  said, 
''  The  cars  will  soon  be  along,  and  they  will  run 
over  you.  How  do  you  expect  to  get  out  of  their 
way  ?  "  I  told  him  I  would  risk  it,  and  left  him. 
I  passed  on  in  safety,  and  soon  came  to  the  depot, 
where  I  took  the  evening  train  for  Albany.  At 
eight  the  same  evening  I  left  the  cars,  and  walked 
on  towards  Troy,  which  I  think  was  four  miles 
distant.    Here  I  met  a  lad,  of  whom  I  inquired  the 

17* 


i 


,[/ 


'     ! 


■* 


198 


LIFE  IN  THE  GRET  NUNNERY. 


way  to  Albany.  "  You  cannot  get  there  to-night," 
said  he,  "  and  I  advise  you  not  to  try."  When  he 
saw  that  I  was  determined  to  go  on,  he  said  I 
would  pass  a  tavern  called  the  half-way  house,  and 
if  I  was  tired  I  could  stop  there.  It  was  about 
eleven  o'clock  when  I  passed  this  house.  There 
were  several  persons  on  the  piazza,  laughing,  talk- 
ing, and  singing,  who  called  me  as  I  passed,  shouted 
after  me,  and  bade  me  stop.  Exceedingly  fright- 
ened, I  ran  with  all  possible  speed,  but  they  contin- 
ued to  call  after  me  till  I  was  out  of  hearing. 
Seeing  a  light  at  a  house  near  by,  I  ventured  to 
rap  on  the  door.  It  was  opened  by  a  woman,  who 
asked  me  to  walk  in.  I  inquired  the  distance  to 
Albany.  She  informed  me,  but  said,  "  You  can 't 
go  there  to-night."  I  told  her  I  must.  "  "Well," 
said  she,  "  if  you  will  go,  the  watch  will  take  care 
of  you  when  you  get  there."  She  then  asked, 
"  Were  those  men  calling  after  you  ?  "  I  told  her 
I  supposed  they  were,  when  she  replied,  with  a 
peculiar  smile,  "  I  guess  you  crai  't  be  a  very  nice 
kind  of  girl,  or  you  would  n't  be  on  the  street  this 
time  of  night."  My  feelings  were  so  deeply 
wounded  I  could  hardly  restrain  my  tears  at  this 
cruel  insinuation ;  but  pride  came  to  my  aid,  and, 
choking  down  the  rising  emotion,  I  replied  as  care- 
lessly as  possible, ''  I  must  do  as  I  can,  and  not  as 
I  would." 

It  was  about  one  o'clock  at  night  when  I  entered 
the  principal  street  in  Albany,  and,  as  the  lady 
predicted,  a  watchman  came  to  me  and  asked  why 


% 


ARRIVAL   AT   ALBANY. 


19a 


I  was  out  that  time  of  night.  I  gave  him  Mr. 
Stot's  letter.  He  stood  beside  a  lamp-post  and 
read  it,  when  he  seemed  satisfied,  and  said,  "  I 
know  the  man ;  come  with  me  and  I'll  take  you  to 
his  house."  I  followed  him  a  long  way,  till  at 
last  he  stopped  before  a  large  house,  and  rang  the 
bell.  Mr.  Williams  came  to  the  door,  and  asked 
what  was  wanted.  The  watchman  gave  him  the 
letter.  He  read  it,  and  invited  me  to  stop.  His 
wife  got  up,  received  me  very  kindly,  and  gave  me 
some  supper,  for  which  I  was  truly  grateful.  Nor 
was  I  less  thankful  for  the  delicate  consideration 
with  which  they  avoided  any  allusion  to  my  con- 
vent life,  or  my  subsequent  flight  and  sufiering. 
Mrs.  Williams  saw  that  I  was  sad  and  weary,  and 
as  she  conducted  me  to  a  comfortable  bed,  she 
remarked,  "  You  are  safe  at  last,  and  I  am  glad  of 
it.  You  can  now  retire  without  the  apprehension 
of  danger,  and  sleep  in  perfect  security.  You  are 
with  friends  who  will  protect  you  as  long  as  you 
choose  to  remain  with  us." 

Notwithstanding  the  good  lady's  assurance  of 
safety,  I  found  it  impossible  to  close  my  eyes.  I 
was  among  strangers,  in  a  strange  place,  and,  hav- 
ing been  so  often  deceived,  might  I  not  be  again  ? 
Perhaps,  after  all  their  pretended  kindness,  they 
were  plotting  to  betray  me.  A  few  days,  however, 
convinced  me  that  I  had  at  last  found  real  friends, 
who  would  protect  me  in  the  hour  of  danger  to  the 
utmost  of  their  ability.         » 

I  remained  here  some  four  weeks,  and  should 


• 


I 


200 


LIFE  IN   THE  GBEY  NUNNERY. 


(i   '  i 


i!;l: 


'     'fl 


;  :  fi' 


have  remained  longer,  but  an  incident  transpired 
that  awakened  all  my  fears,  and  again  sent  me 
forth  into  the  wide  world,  a  fugitive,  and  a  wan- 
derer. I  went  to  my  chamber  one  night,  when  I 
heard  a  sound  like  the  full,  heavy  respiration  o^  a 
man  in  deep  sleep.  The  sound  appeared  to  come 
from  under  the  bed,  but  stopped  as  I  entered  the 
room.  I  was  very  much  alarmed,  but  I  controlled 
my  feelings,  and  instead  of  running  shrieking 
from  the  room,  I  deliberately  closed  the  blinds,  shut 
the  windows,  adjusted  the  curtain,  all  the  time 
carelessly  humming  a  tune,  and  taking  up  my 
lamp  I  slowly  left  the  room.  Once  outside  the 
door,  I  ran  in  all  haste  to  Mr.  Williams,  and  told 
him  what  I  had  heard.  He  laughed  at  me,  said  it 
was  all  imagination,  but,  to  quiet  my  fears,  he 
went  to  my  room  resolved  to  convince  me  that  no 
one  was  there.  I  followed,  and  stood  at  the  door 
while  he  lifted  the  bed  valance,  when  a  large,  taU 
man  sprang  forth,  and  caught  him  with  one  hand 
while  with  the  other  he  drew  a  pistol  from  beneath 
his  coat  saying, "  Let  me  go,  and  I'll  depart  in 
peace;  but  attempt  to  detain  me,  and  I'll  blow 
your  brains  out."  I  shrieked,  and  Mrs.  Williams 
came  in  great  terror  and  consternation,  to  see  what 
was  the  matter.  But  she  could  render  no  assis- 
tance, and  Mr.  Williams,  being  unarmed,  was 
obliged  to  let  him  go.  The  watch  were  immedi- 
ately called,  and  they  sought  for  the  intruder  in 
every  direction.  No  effort  was  spared  to  find  him, 
that  we  might,  at  least,  learn  the  object  of  this 


(  .'^ 


FRUITLESS  SEARCH. 


201 


untimely  visit.  But  the  search  was  all  in  vain. 
No  trace  of  his  whereabouts  could  be  discovered. 
Mr.  Williams  said  he  did  not  believe  it  was  me 
he  sought.  He  thought  the  object  was  robbery, 
and  perhaps  arson  and  murder,  but  he  would  not 
think  that  I  was  in  the  least  danger.  "  The  man," 
he  said,  ^'  in  hastily  concealing  himself  had  taken 
the  first  hiding  place  he  could  find."  Yet  I 
thought  otherwise.  Indeed,  bo  sure  was  I  that  he 
was  an  agent  of  the  priests,  sent  forth  for  the 
express  purpose  of  arresting  me,  no  earthly  consid- 
eration would  have  induced  me  to  remain  there 
another  day.  The  rest  of  that  night  I  spent  in  a 
state  of  anxiety  I  cannot  describe.  Sleep  fled 
from  my  eyes.  I  dared  not  even  undress  and  go  to 
bed,  but  I  sat  in  my  chair,  or  walked  the  room 
every  moment  expecting  the  return  of  the  myste- 
rious visitor.  I  shuddered  at  every  sound,  whether 
real  or  imaginary.  Once  in  particular,  I  remem- 
ber, the  distant  roll  of  carriage  wheels  fell  upon 
my  ear.  I  listened ;  it  came  near,  and  still  nearer, 
till  at  last  it  stopped,  as  I  thought,  at  the  gate. 
For  a  moment  I  stood  literally  stupified  with  ter- 
ror, and  then  I  hastily  prepared  to  use  the  means 
for  self  destruction  I  had  already  provided  in 
anticipation  of  such  an  emergency.  I  was  still 
resolved  never  to  be  taken  alive.  "  Give  me  lib- 
erty or  give  me  death,"  was  now  the  language  of 
my  soul.  If  I  could  not  enjoy  the  one,  I  would 
cordially  embrace  the  other.  But  it  was  a  sad 
alternative  after  all  I  had  suffered  that  I  might  be 


202 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


fc  ! ;? 


i      ;f  'i 


free,  after  all  my  buoyant  hopes,  all  my  ardent 
aspirations  for  a  better  life.  O,  it  was  a  bitter 
thing,  thus  to  stand  in  the  darkness  of  night,  and 
with  my  own  hand  carefully  adjust  the  cord  that 
was  to  cut  me  off  from  the  land  of  the  living,  and 
in  a  moment  launch  my  trembMng  soul  into  the 
vast,  unknown,  untried,  and  fearful  future,  that 
men  call  eternity !  Was  this  to  be  the  only  use  I 
was  to  make  of  liberty  ?  Was  it  for  this  I  had  so 
long  struggled,  toiled,  wept  and  prayed  ?  "  God 
of  mercy,"  I  cried, "  save,  O  save  me  from  this  last 
great  "sin !  From  the  sad  and  dire  necessity  which 
thus  urges  me  to  cut  short  a  life  which  thou  alone 
canst  give!"  My  prayer  was  heard;  but  how 
slowly  passed  the  hours  of  that  weary  night  while 
I  waited  for  the  day  that  I  might  "  hasten  my 
escape  from  the  windy  storm  and  tempest."  Tru- 
ly, at  that  time  I  could  say  with  one  of  old,  "  Fear- 
fulness  and  trembling  are  come  upon  me,  and  hor- 
ror hath  overwhelmed  me.  My  heart  is  sore  pained 
within  me,  and  the  terrors  of  death  are  fallen  upon 
me.  Oh  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove,  for  then 
would  I  flee  away,  and  be  at  rest." 

But  alas !  I  had  not  the  wings  of  a  dove,  and 
whither  should  I  flee  from  the  furious  grasp  of  my 
relentless  persecutors  ?  Again  I  must  go  forth  into 
the  "  busy  haunts  of  men,"  I  must  mingle  with  the 
multitude,  and  what  chance  had  I  for  ultimate 
escape?  If  I  left  these  kind  friends,  and  leave 
them  I  must,  who  would  take  me  in  ?  In  whom 
could  I  confide  ?    Who  would  have  the  power  to 


AGAIN  COMPELLED  TO  FLEE. 


203 


my  ardent 
as  a  bitter 
'  night,  and 
B  cord  that 
I  living,  and 
(ul  into  the 
future,  that 
B  only  use  I 
his  I  had  so 
ed?    "God 
fom  this  last 
essity  which 
h  thou  alone 
i;   but  how 
'  night  while 
«  hasten  my 
pest."     Tru- 
old,"Feai- 
me,  and  hor- 
s  sore  pained 
fallen  upon 
>ve,  for  then 

a  dove,  and 
grasp  of  my 
I  go  forth  into 
igle  with  the 
[for  ultimate 
and  leave 
J?  In  whom 
(the  power  to 


rescue  me  in  my  hour  of  need  ?  In  God  alone 
could  I  trust,  yet  why  is  he  so  far  from  helping  me? 
Why  are  my  prayers  so  long  unanswered  ?  And 
why  does  he  thus  allow  the  wicked  to  triumph ;  to 
lay  snares  for  the  feet  of  the  innocent,  and  wrong- 
fully persecute  those  whom  their  wanton  cruelty 
hath  caused  to  sit  in  darkness  and  in  the  shadow 
of  death  ?  Why  does  he  not  at  once  "  break  the 
bands  of  iron,  and  let  the  oppressed  go  free  ?  " 

The  tedious  night  at  length  passed  away. 
When  I  met  Mr.  Williams  in  the  morning,  I  told 
him  I  could  no  longer  remain  with  him,  for  I  was 
sure  if  I  did,  I  should  be  suddenly  arrested  in 
some  unguarded  moment,  and  carried  back  to 
Montreal.  He  urged  me  to  stay,  assured  me  he 
would  never  allow  them  to  take  me,  said  that  he 
thought  some  of  going  south,  and  I  could  go  with 
him,  and  thus  be  removed  far  from  all  vsrhom  I 
feared.  Mrs.  WiUiams,  also,  strove  to  persuade 
me  to  stay.  But,  though  sorry  to  appear  ungrate- 
ful, I  dared  not  remain  another  night  where  I  felt 
that  my  danger  was  so  great. 

When  they  found  that  I  was  determined  to  go, 
Mr.  Williams  said  I  had  better  go  to  Worcester, 
Mass.,  and  try  to  get  employment  in  some  farmer's 
family,  a  little  out  of  the  city.  He  gave  me  money 
to  bear  my  expenses,  until  I  found  a  place  where  I 
could  earn  my  living.  It  was  with  a  sad  heart 
that  I  left  this  hospitable  roof,  and  as  I  turned 
away  I  said  in  my  heart,  "  Shall  I  always  be 
hunted  through  the  world  in  this  manner,  obliged 
to  flee  like  a  guilty  thing,  and  shall  I  never  find  a 


I 


w^r 


'f  W    1'  i; 


I'      f'      ^1 


H 

. 

.J. 
j 

1^ 

1 

1 

;  i 


'  !l 


^t 


\     II 


204 


LIFE   1\   THE   GHKY   NUNNERY. 


home  of  happiness  and  peace  ?  Must  sorrow  and 
despair  forever  be  the  portion  of  my  cup?"  But 
no  words  of  mine  can  describe  what  I  felt  at  that 
moment.  I  longed  for  the  power  to  sound  a  warn- 
ing through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  to 
cry  in  the  ears  of  all  the  people,  "  Beware  oi"  Ro- 
manism ! "  Like  the  patient  man  of  Uz,  with  whose 
history  I  have  since  become  familiar,  I  was  ready 
to  exclaim, "  O  that  my  words  were  now  written ! 
O  that  they  were  printed  in  a  book !  Graven  with 
an  iron  pen,"  that  the  whole  world  might  know 
what  a  fearful  and  bitter  thing  it  is  to  be  a  nun ! 
To  be  subject  to  the  control  of  those  ruthless 
tyrants,  the  Romish  Priests. 

Once  more  I  ntered  the  depot,  and  mingled 
with  the  crowd  around  the  ticket  office.  But  no 
pen  can  describe  my  terror  when  I  found  myself 
the  object  of  particular  attention.  I  heard  people 
remark  about  my  strange  and  unnatural  appear- 
ance, and  I  feared  I  might  be  taken  up  for  a  crazy 
person,  if  not  for  a  nun.  Thinking  that  I  saw  an 
enemy  in  every  face,  and  a  pursuer  in  every  one  who 
came  near  me,  I  hastened  to  take  refuge  in  the  cars. 
There  I  waited  with  the  greatest  impatience  for 
the  starting  of  the  train.  Slowly  the  cars  were 
filled;  very  leisurely  the  passengers  sought  their 
seats,  while  I  sat  trembling  in  every  limb,  and  the 
cold  perspiration  starting  from  every  pore.  How 
carefully  I  scanned  every  face!  how  eagerly  I 
watched  for  some  indication  of  the  priest  or  the 
spy !  So  intense  was  my  anxiety,  those  few  mo- 
ments seemed  to  me  an  age  of  agony.    At  length 


f. 

t  sonow  and 
cup?"  But 
I  felt  at  that 
ound  a  wain- 
f  the  land,  to 
eware  ot  Ro- 
rz,  with  whose 

r,  I  was  ready 
now  written ! 
!  Graven  with 
I  might  know 
J  to  be  a  nun ! 
those  ruthless 

;,  and  mingled 
affice.  But  no 
found  myself 
I  heard  people 
natural  appear- 
a  up  for  a  crazy 
g  that  I  saw  an 
n  every  one  who 

jfuge  in  the  cars. 
;  impatience  for 
y  the  cars  were 
ers  sought  their 
ry  limb,  and  the 
/ery  pore.    How 

how  eagerly  I 
the  priest  or  the 
y,  those  few  mo- 

rony.    At  length 


1!  ;i  (. 


^.  AT  WORCESTER. 


206 


the  shrill  whistle  announced  that  all  was  ready,  and 
like  sweetest  music  the  sound  fell  upon  my  ears. 
The  train  dashed  ojff  at  lightning  speed,  but  to  me 
it  seemed  like  the  movement  of  a  snail. 

Once  under  way,  I  ventured  to  breathe  freely, 
and  hope  again  revived.  Perchance  I  might  yet 
escape.  But  even  as  the  thought  passed  my  mind, 
a  man  entered  the  cars  and  seated  himself  directly, 
before  me.  I  thought  he  regarded  me  with  too 
much  interest,  and  thinking  to  shun  him,  I  quietly 
left  my  seat  and  retired  to  the  other  end  of  the 
car.  He  soon  followed,  and  again  my  fears  re- 
vived. He  at  first  tried  to  converse  with  me,  but 
finding  I  would  not  reply,  he  began  to  question  me 
in  the  most  direct  and  impertinent  manner.  Again 
I  changed  my  seat,  and  again  he  followed.  I  then 
sought  the  conductor,  and  revealed  to  him  enough 
of  my  history  to  enlist  his  sympathy  and  ensure 
his  protection.  To  his  honor  be  it  spoken,  I  did 
not  appeal  to  him  in  vain.  He  severely  reproved 
the  man  for  his  impertinence ;  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  journey  I  was  shielded  from  insult  or  injury. 

Nothing  further  of  interest  transpired  until  I 
reached  Worcester,  when  the  first  face  that  met 
my  eye  as  I  was  about  to  leave  the  cars  was  that 
of  a  Romish  priest  I  could  not  be  mistaken,  for 
I  had  often  seen  him  at  Montreal.  He  might  not 
have  been  looking  for  me,  but  he  watched  every 
passenger  as  they  left  the  cars  in  a  way  that  con- 
vinced me  he  had  some  special  reason  for  doing  it. 
As  I,  too,  had  special  reasons  for  avoiding  him 

18 


^*^' 


¥\ 


m 


'iili:    ; 


I  I 


i  I 


'i  i 


206 


LIFE  IN  TOE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


just  at  that  time,  I  stepped  back  out  of  sight  until 
the  passengers  were  all  out  of  the  cars  and  the 
priest  had  turned  away.  I  then  sprang  out  upon 
the  opposite  side,  and,  turning  my  back  upon  the 
depot,  hastened  away  amid  the  wilderness  of 
houses,  not  knowing  whither  I  went.  For  a 'long 
time  I  wandered  around,  until  at  length,  being 
faint  and  weary,  I  began  to  look  for  some  place 
where  I  could  obtain  refreshment.  But  when  I 
found  a  restaurant  I  did  not  dare  to  enter.  A 
number  of  Irishmen  were  standing  around  who 
were  in  all  probability  Catholics.  I  would  not 
venture  among  them;  but  as  I  turned  aside  I 
remembered  that  Mr.  Williams  had  directed  me 
to  seek  employment  a  little  out  of  the  city.  I  then 
inquired  the  way  to  Main  street,  and  having  found 
it,  I  turned  to  the  north  and  walked  on  till  I  found 
myself  out  of  the  thickly  settled  part  of  the  city. 
Then  I  began  to  seek  for  employment,  and  after 
several  fruitless  applications  I  chanced  to  call  upon 
a  man  whose  name  was  Handy.  He  received  me 
in  the  kindest  manner,  and  when  I  asked  for  work, 
he  said  his  wife  did  not  need  to  hire  me,  but  I  was 
welcome  to  stop  with  them  and  work  for  my  boa^ 
until  I  found  employment  elsewhere.  This  c^er 
I  joyfully  accepted ;  and,  as  I  became  acquainted 
in  the  place,  many  kind  hands  were  extended  to 
aid  me  in  my  efforts  to  obtain  an  honest  living. 
In  this  neighborhood  I  still  reside,  truly  thankful 
for  past  deliverance,  grateful  for  present  mercies, 
and  confidently  trusting  God  for  the  future. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 


CONCLUSION. 


Here  closes  the  history  of  Sarah  J.  Richardson; 
as  related  by  herself.  The  remaining  particulars 
have  been  obtained  from  her  employers  in  Worces- 
ter. 

She  arrived  in  this  city  August,  1854,  and,  as 
she  has  already  stated,  at  once  commenced  seeking 
for  employment.  She  called  at  many  houses  before 
she  found  any  one  who  wished  for  help ;  and  her 
first  question  at  each  place  was, "  Are  you  a  Cath- 
olic ?  "  If  the  answer  was  in  the  affirmative,  she 
passed  on,  but  if  the  family  were  Protestants,  she 
inquired  for  some  kind  of  employment.  She  did 
not  care  what  it  was ;  she  would  cook,  wash,  sew, 
or  do  chamber-work —  anything  to  earn  her  bread. 
A  Mr.  Handy  was  the  first  person  who  took  her  in, 
and  gave  her  a  home.  In  his  family  she  worked  for 
her  board  a  few  weeks,  going  out  to  wash  occa- 
sionally as  she  had  opportunity.  She  then  went 
to  Holden  Mass.,  but  for  some  reason  remained 
only  one  week,  and  again  returned  to  Worces- 
ter. 

Mr..  Ezra  Goddard  then  took  her  into  his  own 
family,  and  found  her  capable,  industrious,  and 


1* 


i' 


II 


rr^ 

i; 

I 

I 

/■" 

1 

V 

.  t  ^ 

\ 

> 
1 

208            L 

f 


'  \ 


■x    !r 


ji 


« 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


trustworthy.  Had  anything  been  wanting  to  prove 
her  truthfulness  and  sincerity,  the  deep  gratitude 
of  her  fervent  "  I  thank  you,"  when  told  that  she 
had  found  a  permanent  home,  would  have  done 
it  effectually.  But  though  her  whole  appearance 
indicated  contentment  and  earnestness  of  purpose, 
though  her  various  duties  were  faithfully  and  zeal- 
ously performed,  yet  the  deep  sadness  of  her  coun- 
tenance, and  the  evident  anxiety  of  her  mind  at 
first  awakened  a  suspicion  of  mental  derangement. 
She  seemed  restless,  suspicious,  and  morbidly 
apprehensive  of  approaching  danger.  The  appear- 
ance of  a  stranger,  or  a  sudden  ringing  of  the  bell, 
would  cause  her  to  start,  tremble,  and  exhibit  the 
greatest  perturbation  of  spirit.  In  fact,  she  seemed 
so  constantly  on  the  qui  vive,  the  lady  of  the  house 
one  day  said  to  i/'?r,  "  Sarah,  what  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  what  do  you  fear  ? "  "  The  Roman 
Catholic  priests,"  she  replied.  '^I  have  been  a 
nun.  I  ran  away  from  the  Grey  Nunnery  at  Mon- 
treal, and  twic6  I  have  been  caught,  carried  back, 
and  punished  in  the  most  cruel  manner.  O,  if  you 
knew  what  I  have  suffered,  you  would  not  wonder 
that  I  live  in  constant  fear  lest  they  again  seek  out 
my  retreat;  and  I  will  die  before  I  go  back  again." 
Further  questioning  drew  from  her  the  foregoing 
narrative,  which  she  repeated  once  and  again  to  va- 
rious persons,  and  at  different  times,  without  the 
least  alteration  or  contradiction.  She  resided  in 
the  family  of  Mr.  Goddard  some  weeks,  when  she 
was  taken  into  the  employ  of  Mr.  Amos  B.  Black. 


LIFE  WRITTEN. 


209 


ting  to  prove 
ep  gratitude 
old  that  she 
d  have  done 
5  appearance 
\s  of  pur'pose, 
ally  and  zeal- 
3  of  her  coun- 
'  her  mind  at 
derangement, 
and  morbidly 
The  appear- 
ing of  the  bell, 
md  exhibit  the 
act,  she  seemed 
ly  of  the  house 
is  the  matter 
"The  Eoman 
I  have  been  a 
annery  at  Mon- 
it,  canied  back, 
iner.    O,  if  you 
,uld  not  wonder 
again  seek  out 
Igo  back  again." 
ler  the  foregoing 
md  again  to  va- 
^es,  without  the 
She  resided  in 
eeks,  when  she 
Amos  E.  Black. 


This  gentleman  informs  us  that  he  found  her  a 
faithful,  industrious,  honest  servant,  and  he  has  not 
the  least  doubt  of  the  truthfulness  of  her  state- 
ments respecting  her  former  life  in  the  Convent. 

A  few  weeks  after  this,  she  was  married  to 
Frederick  S.  Richardson  with  whom  she  became 
acquainted  soon  after  her  arrival  in  the  city  of 
Worcester.  The  marriage  ceremony  was  per- 
formed by  Charles  Chaffin,  Esq.,  of  Holden,  Mass. 
After  their  marriage,  her  husband  hired  a  room  in 
the  house  occupied  by  Mr.  Handy  with  whom  she 
had  formerly  resided.  After  a  few  weeks,  however, 
they  removed  to  a  place  called  the  Drury  farm.  It 
is  owned  by  the  heirs,  but  left  in  the  care  of  Mr. 
Ezra  Goddard. 

Previous  to  her  marriage,  Mrs.  Richardson  had 
often  been  advised  to  allow  her  history  to  be  placed 
before  the  public.  But  she  always  replied,  "  For 
my  life  I  would  not  do  it.  Not  because  I  do 
not  wish  the  world  to  know  it,  for  I  would  gladly 
proclaim  it  wherever  a  Romanist  is  known,  but  it 
would  be  impossible  for  me  to  escape  their  hands 
should  I  make  myself  so  public.  They  would 
most  assuredly  take  my  life."  After  her  marriage, 
however,  her  principal  objection  was  removed. 
She  thought  they  would  not  wish  to  take  her  back 
into  the  nunnery,  and  her  husband  would  protect 
her  from  violence.  She  therefore  related  the  story 
of  her  life  while  in  the  convent,  which,  in  accord- 
ance with  her  own  request,  was  written  down  from 
her  lips  as  she  related  it.    This  was  done  by  Mrs. 

18* 


^ 


'f^ 


,  "^ 


I 


^   : 


>  ;  U 


210 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NU.tNERY. 


Lucy  Ann  Hood,  wife  of  Edward  P.  Hood,  and 
daughter  of  Ezra  Goddard.  It  is  now  given  to  the 
public  without  addition  or  alteration,  and  with  but 
a  slight  abridgment.  A  strange  and  startling  story 
it  certainly  is.  Perhaps  the  reader  will  cast  it  aside 
at  once  as  a  worthless  fiction,  —  the  idle  vagary  of 
an  excited  brain.  The  compiler,  of  course,  cannot 
vouch  for  its  truth,  but  would  respectfully  invite 
the  attention  of  the  reader  to  the  following  testi- 
monials .presented  by  those  who  have  known  the 
narrator.  The  first  is  from  Edward  P.  Hood,  with 
whom  Mrs.  Richardson  resided  when  her  narrative 
was  written. 

(testimoxt  ofedwabd  p.  hood.) 

To  all  whom  it  may  concern.  I  hereby  certify  that  I  was  personally 
acquainted  with  Sarah  J.  Richards,  now  Sarah  J.  Richardson,  at  the 
time  she  resided  in  Worcester,Mass.  I  first  saw  her  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
Ezra  Goddard,  where  she  came  seeking  employment.  She  appeared 
anxious  to  get  some  kind  of  work,  was  willing  to  do  anything  to 
earn  an  honest  living.  She  had  the  appearance  of  a  person  who  had 
seen  much  suffering  and  hardship.  She  worked  for  Mr.  Gtoddard  a 
short  time,  when  she  obtained  another  place.  She  then  left,  but 
called  very  often ;  and  during  her  stay  in  Worcester,  she  worked 
there  several  times.  So  far  as  I  was  able  to  judge  of  her  character, 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  she  was  a  woman  of  truth  and  honesty. 
I  heard  her  relate  the  account  of  her  life  and  sufferings  in  the  Grey 
Nunnery,  and  her  final  escape.  I  knew  when  the  story  was  written, 
and  can  testify  to  its  being  done  according  to  her  own  dictation.  I 
have  examined  the  manuscript,  and  can  say  that  it  is  written  out 
truly  and  faithfully  as  related  by  the  nun  herself. 

Edawrd  p.  Hood. 

Worcester,  May  5,  1856. 

( TESTIMONY  OF  EZBA  OODDARD.) 

I  first  became  acquainted  with  Sarah  J.  Bichardson  in  August 


TESTIMONIALS. 


2U 


1854.  She  camo  to  my  house  to  work  for  my  wife.  She  wa»  at  my 
house  a  great  many  times  after  that  until  March  1855,  when  she  left 
Worcester.  At  one  time  she  was  there  four  or  five  weeks  in  suc- 
cession. She  was  industrious,  willing  to  do  anything  to  get  an 
honest  living.  She  was  kind  in  her  disposition,  and  honest  in  her 
dealings.  I  have  no  hesitation  ia  saying  that  I  think  her  statements 
can  bo  relied  upon.  EzBA  Goodabo. 

Worcester,  Jan.  21, 1856. 

(TESTIMONT  of  LITCT  OODDAXD.^ 

I  am  acquainted  with  the  above  named  Sarah  J.  Ricbardson,  and 
can  fully  testify  to  the  truth  of  the  above  statements  as  to  her  kind- 
ness and  indostriotts  habits,  honesty  and  truthfulness. 

LUOT  GODDARO. 

Worcester,  Jan.  21, 1856. 

(testimony  or  josiah  ooddard.) 

To  whom  it  may  concern:  This  is  to  testify  that  I  am  acqnainted 
with  Sarah  J.  Richardson,  formerly  Sarah  J.  Richards.  I  becamo 
acquainted  with  her  in  the  fall  of  1854.  She  worked  at  my  father's 
at  the  time.  I  heard  her  tell  her  story,  and  from  what  I  saw  of  her 
while  she  was  in  Worcester,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  she 
was  a  woman  of  truth  and  honesty.  Josiah  Goddard. 

Worcester,  March  1,  1856. 

(testimony  of  eben  jbwett.) 

I  became  acquainted  with  Sarah  J.  Richardson  last  winter,  at  the 
house  of  Mr.  Ezra  Goddard ;  saw  her  a  number  of  times  after  that,at 
the  place  where  I  boarded.  She  did  some  work  for  my  wife,  and  I 
heard  her  speak  of  being  at  the  Grey  Nunnery.  I  also  heard  her 
story,  from  Mr.  Goddard's  family.  I  have  no  doubt  of  her  being 
honest  and  truthful,  and  I  believe  she  is  so  considered  by  all  who 
becamo  acquainted  with  her.  Eben  Jbwett. 

Worcester,  Feb  — 1856. 

(testimony  of  CHARLES  CHAFFIN.) 

Worcester,  ss. — Holden,  Nov.  11,  1854. 

This  certifies  that  I  this  day  united  in  marriage,  Frederick  S. 
Richardson  and  Sarah  J.  Richards,  both  of  Worcester. 

Charles  Chaffin,  Justice  of  the  Peace. 


I 


111 


'-   \x 


I' 

ir 


.'-. 


■\   ? 


212 


LIFE  IN  THE  GREY  NUNNERY. 


(affidavit.) 

I,  Sarah  J.  Richardson,  t^ife  of  Frederick  S.  Richardson,  of  the 
city  of  Worcester,  County  of  Worcester,  and  Commonwealth  of 
Massachusetts,  formerly  Sarah  J.  Richards  before  marriage,  do  sol- 
cmnly  swear,  declare  and  say,  that  the  foregoing  pages  contain  a 
true  and  faithful  history  of  my  life  before  my  marriage  to  the  said 
Frederick  S.  Richardson,  and  that  every  statement  made  herein  by 
me  is  true.  In  witness  whereof,  I  do  hereunto  set  my  hana  and 
seal,  this  13th  day  of  March,  A.D.  1855.  her 

SaBAH  J.   H  RiCHABDSOK. 

In  presence  of  Wm.  Greenleaf.  mark. 

Sworn  to  before  me,  the  13th  day  of  March,  AD.  1855. 

Wm.  Greexleaf,  Justice  of  the  Peace. 


(tbstimont  of  z.  k.  fanoborn.) 

When  it  was  known  that  the  Narrative  of  Sarah  J.  Richardson 
was  about  to  be  published,  Mj*.  Z.  K.  Fangbom,  at  that  time  editor 
of  the  Worcester  Daily  Transcript,  voluntarily  offered  the  following 
testimony  which  we  copy  from  one  of  his  editorials. 

"  We  have  no  doubt  that  the  nun  here  spoken  of  as  one  who 
escaped  from  the  Grey  Nunnery  at  Montreal,  is  the  same  person 
who  spent  some  weeks  in  our  family  in  the  fall  of  1853,  after  her 
first  escape  from  the  Nunnery.  She  came  in  search  of  employment 
to  our  house  in  St.  Albans,  Vt.,  stating  that  she  had  traveled  on 
foot  from  Montreal,  and  her  appearance  indicated  that  she  was  poor, 
and  had  seen  hardship.  She  obtained  work  at  sewing,  her  health 
not  being  suffic')3nt  for  more  arduous  task.  She  appeared  to  be 
suffering  under  some  severe  mental  trial,  and  though  industrious 
and  lady-like  in  her  deportment,  still  appeared  absent  minded,  and 
occasionally  singular  in  her  manner.  After  awhile  she  revealed  the 
fact  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  that  she  had  escaped  from  the  Grey 
Nunnery  at  Montreal,  but  begged  her  not  to  inform  any  one  of  the 
fact,  as  she  feared,  if  it  should  be  known,  that  she  would  be  reta- 
ken,  and  carried  back.  A  few  days  after  making  this  disclosui'e, 
she  suddenly  disappeared.  Having  gone  out  one  evening,  and  fail- 
ing to  return,  much  inquiry  was  made,  but  no  trace  of  her  was 
obtained  for  some  months.  Last  spring  a  gentleman  from  Worces- 
ter, Mass.  called  on  us  to  make  inquiries  in  regard  to  this  same  per- 
son and  gave  us  the  following  account  of  her  as  given  by  herself. 


TESTIMONIALS. 


213 


She  states  that  on  the  eyening  when  she  so  mysterionsly  disappeared 
from  our  house,  she  called  upon  an  Irish  family  whose  acquaintance 
she  had  formed,  and  when  she  was  coming  away,  was  suddenly 
seized,  gagged,  and  thrust  into  a  close  carriage,  or  box,  as  she 
thought,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  next  day  found  herself  once 
more  consigned  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Grey  Nunnery  in  Mon- 
treal. Her  capture  was  effected  by  a  priest  who  tracked  her  to  St. 
Albans,  and  watched  his  opportunity  to  seize  her.  She  was  sub- 
jected to  the  most  rigorous  and  cruel  treatment,  to  punish  her  for 
running  away,  and  kept  in  close  confinement  till  she  feigned  peni- 
tence and  submission,  when  she  was  treated  less  cruelly,  and  allowed 
more  liberty. 

"But  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  an  escape,  only  stimulated  her 
the  more  to  make  the  attempt,  and  she  finally  succeeded  a  second 
time  in  getting  out  of  that  place  which  she  described  as  a  den  of 
cruelty  and  misery.  She  was  successful  also  in  eluding  her  pursu- 
ers, and  in  reaching  this  city,  (Worcester,)  where  she  remained  some 
time,  seeking  to  avoid  notoriety,  as  she  feared  she  might  be  again 
betrayed  and  captured.  She  is  now,  however,  in  a  position  where 
she  does  not  fear  the  priests,  and  proposes  to  give  t  the  world  a 
history  of  her  life  in  the  Nunnery.  The  disclosures  she  makes  are 
of  the  most  startling  character,  but  of  her  veracity  and  good  char- 
acter we  have  the  most  satisfactory  evidence." 

This  statement  was  confirmed  by  Mrs.  Fangbom,  a  sister  of  the 
late  Mrs  Branard,  the  lady  with  whom  Sarah  J.  Bichardson  stop- 
ped in  St.  Albans,  and  by  whom  she  was  employed  as  a  seamstress. 
Being  an  inmate  of  the  family  at  the  time,  Mrs  Fangbom  states 
that  she  had  every  opportunity  to  become  acquainted  with  the  girl 
and  learn  her  true  character.  The  family,  she  says,  were  all  inter- 
ested in  her,  although  they  knew  nothing  of  her  secret,  until  a  few 
days  before  she  left.  She  speaks  of  her  as  being  "  quiet  and 
thoughtful,  diligent,  faithful  and  anxious  to  please,  but  manifesting 
an  eager  desire  for  learning,  that  she  might  be  able  to  acquaint  her- 
self more  perfectly  with  the  Holy  Scriptures.  She  could,  at  that 
time,  read  a  little,  and  her  mind  was  well  stored  with  select  passa- 
ges from  the  sacred  volume,  which  she  seemed  to  take  great  delight 
in  repeating.  She  was  able  to  converse  intelligently  upon  almost 
any  subject,  and  never  seemed  at  a  loss  for  language  to  express  her 
thoughts.    No  one  could  doubt  that  nature  had  given  her  a  mind 


FT^ 


214 


LIFE  IN  THE  GRET  NUNNERT. 


capable  of  a  high  degree  of  religioas  and  intellectnal  culture,  and 
that,  with  the  opportunity  for  improvement,  she  would  become  a 
useful  member  of  society.  Of  book  knowledge  she  was  certainly 
quite  ignorant,  but  she  had  evidently  studied  human  nature  to  some 
good  purpose."  Mrs  Fangbom  also  corroborates  many  of  the  state- 
ments  in  her  narrative.  She  often  visited  the  Grey  Nunnery,  and 
says  that  the  description  given  of  the  building,  the  Academy^^  the 
Orphans'  home,  and  young  ladies  school,  are  all  correct.  The 
young  Smalley  mentioned  in  the  narrative  was  well  known  to  her, 
and  also  his  sister  "little  Sissy  Smalley,"  as  they  used  to  call  her. 
Inquiries  have  been  made  of  those  acquainted  with  the  route  along 
which  the  fugitive  passed  in  her  hasty  flight,  and  we  are  told  that 
the  description  is  in  general  correct;  that  even  the  mistakes 
serve  to  prove  the  truthfulness  of  the  narrator,  being  such  as  a  per- 
son would  be  likely  to  make  when  describing  from  memory  scenes 
and  places  they  had  seen  but  once ;  whereas,  if  they  were  getting  up 
a  fiction  which  they  designed  to  represent  as  truth,  such  nustakes 
would  be  carefully  avoided. 


i  ,1 


lal  cnltore,  and 
ould  become  a 
9  was  certainly 
nature  to  some 
ny  of  the  state- 
y  Nunnery,  and 
}  Academy,^  the 
correct.     The 
1  known  to  her, 
sed  to  call  her. 
I  the  route  along 
ire  are  told  that 
in  the  mistakes 
g  such  as  a  per- 
L  memory  scenes 
'  were  getting  up 
[i,such  nustakes 


APPENDIX, 


APPENDIX. 


APPENDIX    I. 


ABSURDITIES  OF  ROMANISTS. 

It  may  perchance  be  thought  by  some  persons  that  the 
foregoing  narrative  contains  many  things  too  absurd  and 
childish  for  belief.  « What  rational  man,"  it  may  be 
said,  "  would  ever  think  of  dressing  up  a  figure  to  repre- 
sent the  devil,  for  the  purpose  of  frightening  young  girls 
into  obedience  ?  And  those  absurd  threats !  Surely  no 
sane  man,  and  certainly  no  Christian  teacher,  would  ever 
stoop  to  such  senseless  mummery  1" 

Incredible  it  may  seem  —  foolish,  false,  inconsistent 
with  reason,  or  the  plain  dictates  of  common  sense,  it 
certainly  is — but  we  have  before  us  well-authenticated 
accounts  of  transactions  in  which  the  Komish  priests 
claimed  powers  quite  as  extraordinary,  and  palmed  ofif 
upon  a  credulous,  superstitious  people  stories  quite  as 
silly  and  ridiculous  as  anything  recorded  in  these  pages. 
Indeed,  so  barefaced  and  shameless  were  their  preten- 
sions in  bome  instances,  that  even  their  better-informed 
brethren  were  ashamed  of  their  folly,  and  their  own  arch- 
bisbop  publicly  rebuked  their  dishonesty,  cupidity  and 
chicanery.  In  proof  of  this  we  place  before  our  r<)aders 
the  following  facts  which  we  find  in  a  letter  from  Profes- 

19 


ifi  I 


■i 


fr'^-^ 


1' 

■  I 


■■.  1 


:(     5 


IK 


iii 


\    :i' 


218 


APPENDIX. 


8or  Similien,  of  the  college  of  Angers,  addressed  to  the 
Union  de  I'Ouest : 

"  Some  years  ago  a  pretended  miracle  was  reported  as 
having  occurred  upon  a  mountain  called  La  Salette,  in 
the  southeastern  part  of  France,  where  the  Virgin  Mary 
appeared  in  a  very  miraculous  manner  to  two  young  shep- 
herds. The  story,  however,  was  soon  proved  to  be  a 
despicable  trick  of  the  priest,  and  as  such  was  publicly 
exposed.  But  the  Bishop  of  Lucon,  within  whose  diocese 
the  sacred  mountain  stands,  appears  to  have  been  unwil- 
ling to  relinquish  the  advantage  which  he  expected  to 
result  from  a  wide-spread  belief  in  this  infamous  fable. 
Accordingly,  in  July,  1852,  it  was  again  reported  that  no 
less  than  three  miracles  were  wrought  there  by  the  Holy 
Virgin.    The  details  were  as  follows : 

"  A  young  pupil  at  the  religious  establishment  of  the 
visitation  of  Valence,  who  had  been  for  three  months 
completely  blind  from  an  attack  of  gutta-serena,  arrived  at 
La  Salette  on  the  first  of  July,  in  company  with  some 
sisters  of  the  community.  The  extreme  fatigue  which  she 
had  undergone  in  order  to  reach  the  summit  of  the  moun- 
tain, at  the  place  of  the  apparition,  caused  some  anxiety 
to  be  felt  that  she  could  not  remain  fasting  until  the  con- 
clusion of  the  mass,  which  had  not  yet  commenced,  and 
the  Abbe  Sibilla,  one  of  the  missionaries  of  La  Salette, 
was  requested  to  administer  the  sacrament  to  her  before 
the  service  began.  She  had  scarcely  received  the  sa- 
cred wafer,  when,  impelled  by  a  sudden  inspiration,  she 
raised  her  head  and  exclaimed,  *  ma  bonne  mere,  je  vjm 
vois*  She  had,  in  fact,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  statue  of 
the  Virgin,  which  she  saw  as  clearly  as  any  one  present. 
For  mor''  than  an  hour  she  remained  plunged  in  an  ecs- 
tasy of  gratitude  and  love,  and  afterward  retired  from 


APPENDIX. 


210 


ddressed  to  the 

ivas  reported  as 
I  La  Salette,in 
l,e  Virgin  Mary 
two  young  shep- 
proved  'to  be  a 
uch  was  publicly 
hin  whose  diocese 
have  been  unwil- 
h  he  expected  to 
is  infaraoua  fable, 
a  reported  that  no 
there  by  the  Holy 

Btablishment  of  the 
i  for  three  months 
ta-serena,  arrived  at 

company  with  some 
le  fatigue  which  she 

immit  of  the  moun- 
aused  some  anxiety 
pasting  until  the  con- 
ret  commenced,  and 
iries  of  La  Salette, 
,ment  to  her  before 
;ly  received  the  sa- 
Iden  inspiration,  she 
home  mere,  je  v^«^ 
ed  on  the  statue  of 
as  any  one  present. 
,  plunged  in  an  ets- 
terward  retired  from 


the  place  widiout  requiring  the  assistance  of  those  who 
accompanied  her.  At  the  same  moment  a  woman  from 
Gap,  nearly  sixty  years  of  age,  who  for  the  last  nineteen 
years  had  not  had  the  use  of  her  right  arm,  in  consequence 
of  a  dislocation,  suddenly  felt  it  restored  to  its  original 
state,  and  swinging  round  the  once  paralyzed  limb,  she 
exclaimed,  in  a  transport  of  joy  and  gratitude,  *  And  I 
also  am  cured ! '  A  third  cure,  although  not  instantane- 
ous, is  not  the  less  striking.  Another  woman,  known  in 
the  country  for  years  as  being  paralytic,  could  not  ascend 
the  mountain  but  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  and  with  the 
aid  of  crutches.  On  the  first  day  of  the  neuvane,  that  of 
her  .arrival,  she  felt  a  sensation  ad  if  life  was  coming  irto 
her  legs,  which  had  been  for  so  long  time  dead.  This 
feeling  went  on  increasing,  and  the  last  day  of  the  neu- 
vane,  after  having  received  the  communion,  she  went, 
without  any  assistance,  to  the  cross  of  the  assumption, 
where  she  hung  up  her  crutches.     She  also  was  cured. 

*'  Bishop  LucoQ  must  have  known  that  this  was  mere 
imposition ;  yet,  so  far  from  exposing  a  fraud  so  base,  he 
not  only  permits  his  people  to  believe  it,  but  he  lends  his 
whole  influence  to  support  and  circulate  the  falsehood. 
And  why  ?  Ah  I  a  church  was  to  be  erected ;  and  it  was 
necessary  to  get  up  a  little  enthusiasm  among  the  people 
in  order  to  induce  them  to  fill  his  exhausted  cofiers,  and 
build  the  church.  In  proof  of  this,  we  have  only  to  quote 
a  few  extracts  from  the  *  Pastoral  *  which  he  issued  on 
this  occasion. 

"  *  And  now,"  he  says,  "  Mary  has  deigned  to  appear  on 
the  summit  of  a  lofty  mountain  to  two  young  shepherds, 
revealing  to  them  the  secrets  of  heaven.  But  who  attests 
the  truth  of  the  narrative  of  these  Alpine  pastors  ?  No 
other  than  the  men  themselves,  and  they  are  believed. 


1 


virrtT 


220 


APPENDIX. 


■''  i 
m 


They  declare  what  they  have  seen,  they  repeat  xrhat  they 
have  heard,  they  retain  what  they  have  received  command- 
ment to  keep  secret. 

"  A  few  words  of  the  incomparable  Mother  of  God  have 
transformed  them  into  new  men.  Incapable  of  concerting 
aught  between  themselves,  or  of  imagining  anything  sim- 
ilar to  what  they  relate,  each  is  the  witness  to  a  vision 
which  has  not  found  him  unbelieving;  each  is  its  historian. 
These  two  shepherds,  dull  as  they  were,  have  at  once 
understood  and  received  the  lesson  which  was  vouchsafed 
to  them,  and  it  is  inefiaceably  engraven  on  their  hearts. 
They  add  nothing  to  it,  they  take  nothing  from  it,  they 
modify  it  in  nowise,  they' deliver  the  oracle  of  Heaven  just 
as  they  have  received  it. 

"  An  admirable  constancy  enabled  them  to  guard  the 
secret,  a  singular  sagacity  made  them  discern  all  the  snares 
laid  for  them,  a  rare  prudence  suggested  to  them  a  thou- 
sand responses,  not  one  of  whic^  betrayed  their  secret ; 
and  when  at  length  the  time  came  when  it  was  their  duty 
to  make  it  known  to  the  common  Father  of  the  Faithful, 
they  wrote  correctly,  as  if  reading  a  book  placed  under 
their  eyes.  Their  recital  drew  to  this  blessed  mountain 
thousands  of  pilgrims. 

^They  proclaimed  that  'on  Saturday,  the  19th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1840,  Mary  manifiested  herself  to  them ;  and  the 
anniversary  of  this  glorious  day  is  henceforth  and  forever 
dear  to  Christian  piety.  Will  not  every  pilgrim  who 
repairs  to  this  holy  mountain  add  his  testimony  to  the 
truthful  uess  of  these  young  shepherds  ?  Mary  halted  near 
a  fountain ;  she  communicated  to  it  a  celestial  virtue,  a 
divine  efficacy.  From  being  intermittent,  this  spring,  to- 
day so  celebrated,  became  perenniaL 

« '  Every  where  is  recounted  the  prodigies  which  she 


APPENDIX. 


221 


jat  "what  they 
ed  command- 

p  of  God  have 
.  of  concerting 
anything  sim- 
SS3  to  a  vision 
is  its  historian, 
have  at  once 
(fas  vouchsafed 
a  their  hearts. 
5  from  it,  they 
of  Heaven  just 

a  to  guard  the 
im  all  the  snares 
o  them  a  thou- 
Bd  their  secret; 

was  their  duty 
[of  the  Faithful, 
k  placed  under 

[essed  mountain 

ae  19th  of  Sep- 
them;  and  the 
[brth  and  forever 
Iry  pilgrim  viho 
[testimony  to  the 

Mary  halted  near 

pelestial  virtue,  a 
this  spring,  to- 

Ugies  which  she 


works.  When  the  afflicted  are  in  despair,  the  infirm  with- 
out remedy,  they  resort  to  the  waters  of  La  Salette,  and 
cures  are  wrought  by  this  remedy,  whose  power  makes 
itself  felt  against  every  evil.  Our  diocess,  so  devoted  to 
Mary,  has  been  no  stranger  to  the  bounty  of  this  tender 
Mother.  We  are  about  to  celebrate  shortly  the  sixth 
anniversary  of  this  miraculous  apparition.  Ji^ow  that  a 
sanctuary  is  to  he  raised  on  this  holy  mountain  to  the 
glory  of  God,  we  have  thought  it  right  to  inform  you 
thereof. 

« <  We  cannot  doubt  that  many  of  you  have  been  heard 
by  our  Lady  of  La  Salette ;  you  desire  to  witness  your 
gratitude  to  this  mother  of  compassioii ;  you  would  gladly 
bring  your  stone  to  the  beautiful  edifice  that  is  to  be  con- 
structed. We  desire  to  further  your  Jtlicd  tenderness  with 
the  means  of  transmitting  the  alms  of  faith  and  piety. 
For  these  reasons,  invoking  tlie  holy  name  of  God,  we 
have  ordained  and  do  ordain  'is  follows,  viz.: 

"  *  First,  we  permit  the  appearance  of  our  Lady  of  La 
Salette  to  be  preached  throughout  our  diocess ;  secondly, 
on  Sunday,  the  19th  of  September  next  ensuing,  the  lita- 
nies of  the  Holy  Virgin  shall  be  chanted  in  all  the  chapels 
and  churches  of  the  diocess,  and  be  followed  by  the  bene- 
diction of  the  Holy  Sacrament.  Thirdly,  thefaiffful  who 
may  desire  to  contribute  to  the  erection  of  the  new  sanctuary, 
may  deposit  their  offerings  in  the  hands  of  the  cure,  who 
will  transmit  them  to  us  for  the  Bishop  of  Grenoble. 

"<  Our  present  pastoral  letter  shall  be  read  and  published 
after  mass  in  6ver/  parish  on  the  Sunday  after  its  recep- 
tion. 

" '  Given  at  Lucon,  in  our  Episcopal  palace,  under  our 
sign-manual  and  the  seal  of  our  arms,  and  the  official 

19* 


222 


APPENDIX. 


''  .  I 


counter-signature  of  our  secretary,  the  30th  of  June,  of  the 

year  of  Grace,  1852. 

«*X  Jac-Mar  Jos, 

.    '  «*  Bishop  of  Lucon.'" 

"  It  is  not  a  little  remarkable,"  says  the  editor  of  vtbe 
American  Christian  Union,  "  that  whilst  the  Bishop  of 
Lucon  was  engaged  in  extolling  the  miracles  of  La  Salette, 
the  Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Lyons,  Dr.  Bonald, '  Primate 
of  all  the  Gauls,'  addressed  a  circular  to  all  the  priests  in 
his  diocess,  in  which  he  cautions  them  against  apocryphal 
miracles  I  There  is  indubitable  evidence  that  his  grace 
refers  to  the  scandalous  delusions  of  La  Salette.  His  lan- 
guage is  severe,  very  severe.  He  attributes  the  miracles 
in  question  to  pecuniary  speculation^  which  now-a-days,  he 
says,  mingles  with  everything,  seizes  upon  imaginary  facts, 
and  profits  by  it  at  the  expense  of  the  credulous  I  He 
charges  the  authors  of  these  things  with  bemg  greedy 
MEN,  who  aim  at  procuring  for  themselves  dishonest 
GAINS  by  this  traffic  in  superstitious  objects  I  And  he 
forbids  the  publishing  from  the  pulpit,  without  leave,  of 
any  account  of  a  miracle,  even  though  its  authenticity 
shouM  be  attested  by  another  Bishop  1  This  is  good.  His 
grace  deserves  credit  for  setting  his  face  against  this  mis- 
erable business  of  palming  off  false  miracles  upon  the 
people."  * 

^  Since  the  above  was  written,  we  have  mot  with  the  following 
explanation  of  this  modem  miracle : 

"A  few  years  ago  there  was  a  great  stir  among  ^  the  simple  faith* 
ful '  in  France,  occasioned  by  a  well-credited  a  oparition  of  the  Holy 
Virgin  at  La  Salette.  She  required  the  erection  of  a  chapel  in  her 
honor  at  that  place,  and  made  such  promises  of  special  indulgences 
to  all  who  paid  their  devotions  there,  that  it  became  '  all  the  rage ' 


APPENDIX. 


223 


Another  of  Rome's  marvellous  stories  we  copy  from  the 
New  York  Daily  Times  of  July  3d,  1854.  It  is  from  the 
pen  of  a  correspondent  at  Rome,  who,  after  giving  an 
account  of  the  ceremony  performed  in  the  church  of  St. 
Peters  at  the  canonization  of  a  new  saint,  under  the  name 
of  Germana,  relates  the  following  particulars  of  her  his- 
tory. He  says,  "  I  take  the  facts  as  they  are  related 
in  a  pamphlet  account  of  her  *  life,  virtues,  and  miracles/ 
published  by  authority  at  Rome : 

"  Germana  Consin  was  bom  near  the  village  of  Pibrac, 
in  the  diocess  of  Toulouse,  in  France.  Maimed  in  one 
hand,  and  of  a  scrofulous  constitution,  she  excited  the 
hatred  of  her  step-mother,  in  whose  power  her  father's 
second  marriage  placed  her  while  yet  a  child.  This  cruel 
woman  gave  the  little  Germana  no  other  bed  than  some 
vine  twigs,  lying  under  a  flight  of  stairs,  which  galled  her 
limbs,  wearied  with  the  day's  labor.  She  also  persuaded 
her  husband  to  send  the  little  gurl  to  tend  sheep  in  the 


as  a  place  of  pilgrimage.  The  consequence  was,  that  other  shops 
for  the  same  sort  of  wares  in  that  region  lost  most  of  their  custom- 
ers, and  the  good  priests  who  tended  the  tills  were  sorely  impover- 
ished. In  self-defence,  they,  well  knowing  how  sttch  things  were  got  up, 
exposed  the  trick.  A  prelate  publicly  denounced  the  imposture, 
and  an  Abbe  Deleon,  priest  in  the  diocess  of  Grenoble,  printed  a 
work  called  '  La  Salette  a  Valley  of  Lies.'  In  this  publication  it  was 
maintained,  with  proofs,  that  the  hoax  was  gotten  up  by  a  Mademoi- 
selle de  Lamerliere,  a  sort  of  half-crazy  nun,  who  impersonated  the 
character  of  the  Virgin.  For  the  injury  done  to  her  character  by 
thi<i  book  she  sued  the  priest  for  damages  to  the  tune  of  twenty 
thousand  francs,  demanding  also  the  infliction  of  the  utmost  penalty 
of  the  law.  The  court,  after  a  long  and  careful  investigation,  for 
two  days,  as  we  learn  by  the  Catholic  Herald,  disposed  of  the  case 
by  declaring  the  miracle-working  damsel  non-suited,  and  condemn- 
ing her  to  pay  the  expenses  of  the  prosecution." — American  and 
Foreign  Christian  Union. 


i 


r 


W 


224 


APPENDIX. 


i« 


'|l! 


1! 


plains,  exposed  to  all  extremes  of  weather.  Injuries  and 
abuse  were  her  only  welcome  when  she  returned  frcm  her 
day's  task  to  her  home.  To  these  injuries  she  submitted 
with  Cliristian  meekness  and  patience,  and  she  derived  her 
happiness  and  consolation  from  religious  faith.  She  went 
every  day  to  church  to  hear  mass,  disregarding  the  dis- 
tance, the  difficulty  of  the  journey,  and  the  danger  in 
which  she  left  her  flock.  The  neighboring  forest  was  full 
of  wolves,  who  devoured  great  numbers  from  other  flocks, 
but  never  touched  a  sheep  in  that  of  Germana.  To  go  to 
the  church  she  was  obliged  to  cross  a  little  river,  which 
was  often  flooded,  but  she  passed  with  dry  feet;  the  waters 
flowing  away  from  heron  either  side:  howbeit.no  one  else 
dared  to  attempt  the  passage.  Whenever  the  signal 
sounded  for  the  Ave  Marie,  wherever  she  might  be  in 
conducting  her  sheep,  even  if  in  a  ditch,  or  in  mud  or 
mire,  she  kneeled  down  and  offered  her  devotions  to  the 
Queen  of  Heaven,  nor  were  her  garments  wet  or  soiled. 
The  little  children  whom  she  met  in  the  fields  she  in- 
structed in  the  truths  of  religion.  For  the  poor  she  felt 
the  tenderest  charity,  and  robbed  herself  of  her  scanty 
pittance  of  bread  to  feed  them.  One  day  her  step-mother, 
suspecting  that  she  was  carrying  away  from  the  house 
morsels  of  bread  to  be  thus  distributed,  incited  her  hus- 
band to  look  in  her  apron  ;  he  did  so,  hui  found  it  fuU  of 
flowers,  beautiful  but  out  of  season,  instead  of  bread. 
This  miraculous  conversion  of  bread  into  flowers  formed 
the  subject  of  one  of  the  paintings  exhibited  in  St. 
Peter's  at  the  Beatification.  Industrious,  charitable,  pa- 
tient and  forgiving,  Germana  lived  a  memorable  example 
of  piety  till  she  passed  from  earth  in  the  twenty  second 
year  of  her  age.  The  night  of  her  death  two  holy  monks 
were  passing,  on  a  journey,  in  the  neighborhood  of  her 


APPENDIX. 


225 


house.  Late  at  night  they  saw  two  celestial  yirgins  robed 
in  white  on  the  road  that  led  to  her  habitation;  a  few  min- 
utes afterwards  they  returned  leading  between  them 
another  virgin  clad  in  pure  white,  and  with  a  crown  of 
flowers  on  her  head. 

"  Wonders  did  not  cease  with  her  death.  Forty  years 
after  this  event  her  body  was  uncovered,  in  digging  a 
grave  for  another  person,  and  found  entirely  uncomipted 
— nay,  the  blood  flowed  from  a  wound  accidentally  made 
in  her  face.  Great  crowds  assembled  to  see  the  body  so 
miraculously  preserved,  and  it  was  carefully  re-interred 
within  the  church.  There  it  lay  in  place  until  the  French 
Revolution,  when  it  was  pulled  up  and  cast  into  a  ditch 
and  covered  with  quick  lime  and  water.  But  even  this 
failed  to  injure  the  body  of  the  blessed  saint  It  was 
found  two  years  afterward  entirely  unhurt,  and  even  the 
grave  clothes  which  surrounded  it  were  entire,  as  on  the 
day  of  sepulture,  two  hundred  years  before. 

"  And  now  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
these  facts  are  published  for  the  edification  of  believers, 
and  his  Holiness  has  set  his  seal  to  their  authenticity. 
Four  miracles  performed  by  this  saint  after  her  death  are 
attested  by  the  bull  of  beatification,  and  also  by  Latin 
inscriptions  in  great  letters  displayed  at  St.  Peter's  on 
the  day  of  this  great  celebration.  The  monks  of  the 
monastery  at  Bourges,  in  France,  prayed  her  to  intercede 
on  one  occasion,  that  their  store  of  bread  might  be  multi- 
plied ;  on  another  their  store  of  meal ;  on  both  occasions 
their  prayer  was  granted.  The  other  two  miracles  were 
cures  of  desperate  maladies,  the  diseased  persons  having 
been  brought  to  pray  over  her  tomb. 

<'  On  the  splendid  scarlet  hangings,  bearing  the  arms  of 
Pius  IX.  and  suspended  at  the  comers  of  the  nave  and 


226 


APPENDIX. 


;■     If 


!| 


transept,  were  two  Latin  inscriptions  of  similar  pur- 
port, of  one  of  which  I  give  a  translation :  *0  Germana, 
raised  to-day  to  celestial  honors  by  Pius  IX.  Fontifex 
Maximus,  since  thou  knowest  that  Pius  has  wept  over 
thy  nation  wandering  from  God,  and  has  exultingly 
rejoiced  at  its  reconciling  itself  with  God  little  by  litUe, 
he  prays  thee  intimately  united  with  God,  do  thou,  for 
thou  canst  do  it,  make  known  his  wishes  to  God,  and 
strengthen  them,  for  thou  art  able,  with  the  virtue  of  thy 
prayers.* 

<*  I  have  been  thus  minute  in  my  account  of  this  Beati- 
fication, deeming  the  facts  I  state  of  no  little  importance 
and  interest,  as  casting  light  upon  the  character  of  the 
Catholicism  of  the  present  day,  and  showing  with  what 
matters  the  Spiritual  and  Temporal  loiler  of  Rome  is 
busying  himself  in  this  year  of  our  Lord  eighteen  hundred 
and  fifty-four." 

Many  other  examples  similar  to  the  above  might  be 
given  from  the  history  of  Catholicism  as  it  exists  at  the 
present  time  in  the  old  world.  But  let  us  turn  to  our 
own  country.  We  need  not  look  to  France  or  Rome  for 
examples  of  priestly  intrigue  of  the  basest  kind ;  and 
absurdities  that  almost  surpass  belief.  The  following 
account  which  we  copy  from  The  American  and  Foreign 
Christian  Union  of  August,  1852,  will  serve  to  show  that 
the  priests  in  these  United  States  are  quite  as  willing  to 
impose  upon  the  ignorant  and  credulous  as  their  brethren 
in  other  countries.  The  article  is  from  the  pen  of  an  Lrish 
Missionary  in  the  employ  of  The  American  and  Foreign 
Christian  Union  and  is  entitled, 


I)  li! 


"A  LYING  WONDER.' 


n 


**  It  would  seem  almost  incredible,"  says  the  editor  of 


APPENDIX. 


227 


this  valuable  Magazine,  "  that  any  men  could  be  found  in 
this  country  who  are  capable  of  practising  such  wretched 
deceptions.  But  the  account  given  in  the  subjoined  state- 
ment is  too  well  authenticated  to  permit  us  to  reject  the 
story  as  untrue,  however  improbable  it  may,  at  first  sight, 
seem  to  be.    Here  it  is  :— 

"  Mr.  Editor ,  —  I  give  you,  herein,  some  information 
respecting  a  lying  wonder  wrought  in  Troy,  New  York, 
last  winter,  and  respecting  the  female  who  was  the  '  medi' 
um*  of  it.  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  this 
female  is  a  Jesuit,  after  as  good  an  examination  as  I  have 
been  able  to  give  the  matter.  I  have  been  fed  with  these 
lying  wonders  in  early  life,  and  in  Ireland  as  well  as  in 
this  country  there  are  many  who,  for  want  ofLknowing 
any  better,  will  feed  upon  them  in  their  hearts  by  faith 
and  thanksgiving.  About  the  time  this  lying  wonder  of 
which  I  am  about  to  write  happened,  I  had  been  talking 
of  it  in  the  office  of  Mr.  Luther,  of  Albany,  (coal  mer- 
chant), where  were  a  number  of  Irish  waiting  for  a  job. 
One  of  these  men  declared,  with  many  curses  on  his  soul 
if  what  he  told  was  not  true,  that  he  had  seen  a  devil  cast 
out  of  a  woman  in  his  own  parish  in  Ireland,  by  the 
priest.  .  I  told  him  it  would  be  better  for  his  character's 
sake  for  him  to  say  he  heard  of  it,  than  to  say  he  saw  it. 

Mr.  J.  W.  Lockwood,  a  respectable  merchant  in  Troy, 
New  York,  and  son  of  the  late  mayor,  kept  two  or  three 
young  women  as  '  helps '  for  his  lady,  last  winter.  The 
name  of  one  is  Eliza  Mead,  and  the  name  of  another  is 
Catharine  Dillon,  a  native  of  the  county  of  Limerick, 
Ireland.  Eliza  was  an  upper  servant,  who  took  care  of 
her  mistress  and  her  children.  Catharine  was  and  is  now 
the  cook.  Eliza  appeared  to  her  mistress  to  be  a  very 
well  educated,  and  a  very  intellectual  woman  of  35, 


I  I 


228 


APPENDIX. 


ir  i  • 


: '  M 


■n  ■ 


!.i  !. 


though  she  would  try  to  make  believe  she  could  not  write, 
and  that  she  was  subject  to  fits  of  insanity.  There  was 
then  presumptive  evidence  that  she  wrote  a  good  deal, 
and  there  is  now  positive  evidence  that  she  could  write. 
She  used  often,  in  the  presence  of  Mrs.  L.,  to  take  the 
Bible  and  other  books  and  read  diem,  and  would 'often 
say  she  thought  the  Protestants  had  a  better  religion  than 
the  Catholics,  and  were  a  better  people.  Afterwards  she 
told  Mrs.  L.  that  she  had  doubts  about  the  Catholic  reli- 
gion, and  was  inclined  toward  the  Protestant :  but  now  she 
is  sure,  quite  sure,  that  the  Catholic  alone  is  the  right  one, 
for  it  wa9  revealed  to  her. 

On  the  evening  of  the  23d  of  December,  1851,  Eliza 
and  Catharine  were  missing; — but  I  will  give  you  Oath 
arine's  affidavit  about  their  business  from  home. 

«  City  of  Troy,  S.  W.  I,  Catharine  Dillon,  say,  that 
on  Tuesday,  2dd  December  inst.,  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  I  went  with  Eliza  Mead  to  see  the  priest,  Mr. 
McDonnel,  who  was  at  home.  Eliza  remained  there  till 
about  six  o'clock  F.  M.  At  that  time  I  returned  home, 
leaving  her  at  the  priest's.  At  half  past  eight  o'clock  the 
same  evening  I  returned  to  the  priest's  house  for  Eliza, 
and  waited  there  for  her  till  about  ten  o'clock  of  the  same 
evening,  expecting  that  Eliza's  conference  with  the  priest 
would  be  ended,  and  that  she  would  come  home  with  me. 

'*  During  the  evening  there  had  been  another  besides  Mr. 
McDonnel  there.  About  ten  o'clock  this  other  priest  re- 
tired, as  I  understood.  Soon  after  this  Mr.  McDonnel 
called  me,  with  others,  into  the  room  where  Eliza  was, 
when  he  said  that  she  (Eliza)  was  possessed  of  the  devil. 
Mr.  McDonnel  then  commenced  interrogating  the  devil, 
asking  the  devil  if  he  possessed  her.  The  answer  was, 
"Yes."     The  priest  then  asked, "How  long? "and  the 


i.,' 


\'' 


APPENDIX. 


229 


answer  was, "  Six  months  and  nine  days."  The  priest 
then  asked,  "  Who  sent  you  into  her  ?  "  The  answer  was, 
"  Mr.  Lockwood."  The  next  question  was,  "  When  ?  " 
"  When  she  was  asleep,"  was  the  answer.  He  then  asked 
the  devil  if  Mr.  Lockwood  had  ever  tempted  Catharine, 
meaning  me,  and  the  reply  was,  "  Yes."-  Then  the  ques- 
tion was,  "  How  many  times  ?  "  And  the  answer  was, 
^<  Three  times,  by  offering  her  drink  when  she  was 
asleep  ?  " 

<<I  came  home  about  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  greatly 
shocked  at  what  I  had  seen  and  heard,  and  impressed  with 
the  belief  that  Eliza  was  possessed  with  the  devil.  I  went 
again  to  the  priest's  on  Wednesday  to  find  Eliza,  when 
the  priest  told  me  that  he,  Mr.  McDonnel,  exorcised  the 
devil  at  high  mass  that  morning  in  the  church,  and  drove 
the  devil  out  of  Eliza.  That  he,  the  devil,  came  out  of 
Eliza,  and  spat  at  the  Holy  Cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
departed.  He  then  told  me  that,  as  Eliza  got  the  devil 
from  Mr.  Lockwood,  in  the  house  where  I  lived,  I  must 
leave  the  house  immediately,  and  made  me  promise  him 
that  I  would.  During  the  appalling  scenes  of  Tuesday 
night,  Mr.  McDonnel  Vent  to  the  other  priest  and  called 
him  up,  but  the  other  priest  did  not  come  to  his  assist- 
ance. These  answers  to  the  priest  when  he  was  asking 
questions  of  the  devil,  were  given  in  a  very  loud  voice, 
and  sometimes  with  a  loud  scream." 

"Catharine  Dillon." 

"  Subscribed  and  sworn  to,  this  31st  day  of  December, 
1851,  before  me.  Job  S.  Olin,  Recorder  of  Troy,  New 
York."  [A  copy.] 

At  the  interview  between  Mr.  J.  W.  Lockwood  and 
the  Rev.  Mr.  McDonnel,  officiat'ng  priest  at  St.  Peter's 
church,  .there  were  present  Hon.  James  M.  Warren,  T. 
20 


230 


APPENDIX. 


.4 


\ ' 


ft* 


'')*|h 


I  'I 


W.  Blatchford,  M.  D.,  and  C.  N.  Lockwood,  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Lockwood,  and  Father  Kenny  and  Mr.  Davis  on 
the  part  of  the  Bev.  Mr.  McDonnel,  on  the  evening  of 
the  3 1st  Decemher,  1851. 

Mr.  McDonnel  at  first  declined  answering  any  ques- 
tions, questioning  Mr.  Lockwood's  right  to  ask  theni.'  He 
would  only  say  that  Eliza  Mead  cpme  to  his  house  pos- 
8e~3ed,  as  she  thought,  with  an  evil  spirit ;  that  at  first  he 
declined  having  anything  to  do  with  her,  first,  beciiUse  he 
believed  her  to  be  crazy ;  second,  because  he  was  at  that 
moment  otherwise  engaged ;  and  thirdly,  because  she  was 
not  in  his  parish ;  but,  by  her  urgent  appeals  in  the  name 
of  God  to  pra^  over  her,  he  was  at  last  induced  to  admit 
her.  He  became  satisfied  that  she  was  possessed  of  the 
devil,  or  an  evil  spirit,  by  saying  the  appointed  prayers 
of  the  church  over  her;  for  the  spirit  manifested  uneasi- 
ness when  this  was  done ;  and  furthermore,  as  she  was 
entering  the  church  the  following  morning,  she  was  thrown 
into  convulsions  by  Father  Kenny's  making  the  sign  of 
the  cross  behind  her  back.  At  high  mass  in  the  morning 
he  exorcised  the  devil,  and  he  left  her,  spitting  at  the 
cross  of  Christ  before  taking  his  final  departure. 

As  to  Mr.  McDonnel's  repeatedly  telling  Catharine 
that  she  must  leave  Mr.  L's  house  immediately,  for  if  she 
remained  there  Mr.  L.  would  put  the  devil  in  her,  Mr. 
McDonnel  denied  saying  or  doing  anything  whatever  that 
was  detrimental  to  the  character  of  Mr.  L.  or  any  of  his 
family.  Mr.  McDonnel  repeatedly  refused  to  answer  the 
questions  put  to  him  by  Mr.  L.  He  considered  it  insult- 
ing that  Mr.  L.  should  visit  his  house  on  such  business,  as 
no  power  on  earth  but  that  of  the  Pope  had  authority  to 
quef.tion  him  on  such  matters.  But  being  reminded  that 
slanderous  reports  had  emanated  from  that  very  house 


APPENDIX. 


231 


d,  on  the  part 

Mr.  Davis  on 

be  evening  of 

iring  any  ques- 
ask  theui.'    He 
his  house  pos- 
1  that  at  first  he 
first,  becj.i^se  he 
e  he  was  at  that 
because  she  was 
eals  in  the  name 
induced  to  adnut 
possessed  of  the 
.ppointed  prayers 
lanifested  uneasi- 
more,  as  she  was 
,g,  she  was  thrown 

[.king  the  sign  of 
13  in  the  morning 
ir,  spitting  at  the 
sparture. 

telling    Catharine 
iiately,  for  if  she 
devil  in  her,  Mr. 
ling  whatever  that 
\.  L.  or  any  of  his 
ised  to  answer  the 
msidered  it  insult- 
such  business,  as 
bad  authority  to 
ig  reminded  that 
that  very  house 


against  Mr.  L.  he,  Mr.  McDonnel,  said  it  was  all  to  see 
what  kind  of  a  man  he  was  that  brought  Mr.  L.  there, 
and  if  reports  were  exaggerated,  it  was  nothing  to  him. 

Mr.  McDonnel  said  that  he  cleared  the  church  before 
casting  out  the  devil,  and  there  was  but  one  person  besides 
himself  there.  That,  every  word  spoken  in  the  church  was 
in  Latin,  and  nobody  in  the  church  understood  a  word  of 
it.  That  he  had  heard  threats  made  by  Mr.  L.,  also  that 
Mr.  L.  had  said  the  pretended  answers  of  the  devil  were 
made  through  the  medium  of  yentriloquism.  Father 
Kenny,  in  the  progress  of  the  interview,  made  two  or 
three  attempts  to  speak,  but  was  prevented  by  Mr.  Mc- 
Donnel. 

Thus  ends  the  report  written  down  by  Mr.  L.'8  brother, 
who  was  present,  immediately  after  the  interview.  It 
was  all  Latin  in  the  church,  we  see ;  but  the  low  Lrish  will 
not  believe  that  the  devil  could  understand  Latin.  How- 
ever, it  was  not  all  Latin  at  the  priest's  house,  where  Cath- 
arine Dillon  heard  what  she  declare  i  on  oath.  How  slow 
the  priest  was  to  admit  her  (Eliza  Mead)  in  the  begin- 
ning, and  to  believe  that  she  had  his  sable  majesty  in  her, 
until  it  manifested  uneasiness  under  the  cannonade  of 
church  prayers ! 

"  But  you  will  ask,  how  could  an  educated  priest,  or  an 
intelligent  woman,  con'^escend  to  such  diabolical  Imposi- 
tions ?  I  think  it  is  something  after  the  way  that  a  man 
gets  to  be  a  drunkard ;  he  may  not  like  the  taste  thereof 
at  first,  but  afterwards  he  will  smack  his  lips  and  say, 
'  there  is  nothing  like  whiskey,*  and  as  their  food  becomes 
part  of  their  bodily  substance,  so  are  these  '  lying  won- 
ders' converted  into  their  spiritual  substance.  So  I 
think ;  I  am,  however,  but  a  very  humble  philosopher, 
and  therefore  I  will  use  the  diction  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on 


■ 


232 


APPENDIX. 


I  .i'rt 


i        ! 


the  matter:  *  For  this  cause  God  shall  send  them  strong 
delusions,  that  they  should  believe  a  lie,*  even  of  their 
own  makinff,  or  what  may  easily  be  seen  to  be  lies  of  other's 
getting,  "  that  they  all  might  be  damned  who  believed  not 
the  truth, but  had  pleasure  in  unrighteousness.'"       v 

"  John  Murphet.** 
Albany,  June  2nd,  1852. 

It  was  said  by  one  "  that  the  first  temptation  on  read- 
ing such  monstrosities  as  the  above,  is  to  utter  a  laugh  of 
derision."  But  it  is  with  no  such  feeling  tha»  we  place 
them  before  our  readers.  Rather  would  wo  exclaim  with 
the  inspired  penman,  "  O  that  my  head  were  waters  and 
mine  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might  weep  day  and 
night "  for  the  deluded  followers  of  these  willfully  blind 
leaders !  Surely,  no  pleasure  can  be  found  in  reading  or 
recording  scenes  which  a  pure  mind  can  regard  only  with 
pity  and  disgust.  Yet  we  desire  to  prove  to  our  readers 
that  the  absurd  threats  and  foolish  attempts  to  impose 
upon  the  weak  and  ignorant  recoraed  by  Sarah  J.  Rich- 
ardson are  perfectly  consistent  with  the  general  character 
and  conduct  of  the  Romish  priests.  Read  for  instance, 
the  following  ridiculous  story  translated  from  Le  Semeur 
Canadien  for  October  12th,  1855. 

A  NEW  MEANS   OF   CONVERSION. 

In  the  district  of  Montreal  lived  a  Canadian  widow  of 
French  extraction  who  had  become  a  Protestant.    Madam 

V ,  such  was  the  name  of  this  lady,  lived  with  her 

daughter,  the  sole  fruit  of  a  union  too  soon  dissolved  by 
unsparing  death.  Their  life,  full  of  good  works,  dispelled 
prejudices  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  vicinity — all  intol- 
erant Catholics — -had  always  entertained  against  evan- 
gelical Christians ;  they  gained  their  respect,  moreover, 


APPENDIX. 


233 


by  presenting  them  the  example  of  every  virtue.  Two 
of  the  neighbors  of  the  Protestant  widow  —  who  had 
often  heard  at  her  house  the  word  of  God  read  and  com- 
mented upon  by  one  of  those  ministers  who  visit  the  scat- 
tered members  of  their  communion  —  talked  lately  of 
embracing  the  reformed  religion.    In   the  mean  while, 

Miss  V diecl.    The  young  Christian  rested  her  hope 

upon  the  promises  of  the  Saviour  who  has  said,  "  Believe 
in  Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved." 

Her  spirit  flew  to  its  Creator  with  the  :;onfidence  o  a 
infant  who  throws  himself  into  the  arms  of  his  father. 
Her  last  moments  were  not  tormented  by  the  fear  of  pur- 
gatory, where  every  Catholic  believes  he  will  suffer  for  a 
longer  or  sh  r  time.  This  death  strengthened  the 
neighbors  in  the  resolution  they  had  taken  to  leave  the 
Catholic  church.  The  widow  buried  the  remains  of  her 
daughter  upon  her  own  land,  a  short  distance  from  her 
house :  the  nearest  Protestant  cemetery  was  so  far  off 
that  she  was  forced  to  give  up  burying  it  there. 

Some  Catholic  fanatics  of  the  vicinity  assembled  se- 
cretly the  day  after  the  funeral  of  Miss  V to  discuss 

the  best  means  for  arresting  the  progress  that  the  reformed 
religion  was  making  in  the  parish.  After  long  delibera- 
tion they  resolved  to  hire  a  poor  man  to  go  every  evening 
.for  a  w?iole  week  and  groan  near  the  grave  of  Miss 
V .  Their  object  was  to  make  the  widow  and  neigh- 
bors believe  that  the  young  girl  was  damned ;  and  that 
God  permitted  her  to  show  her  great  unhappiness  by 
lamentations,  so  that  they  might  avoid  her  fate  by  remain- 
ing faithful  to  the  belief  of  their  fathers.  In  any  other 
country  than  Lower  Canada,  those  who  might  have  em- 
ployed such  means  would  not  perhaps  have  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  their  enterprise  crowned  with  success ; 

20*" 


vr^ 


234 


APPENDIX. 


t 


t" 


If  '*, 

<( 


■'i 


>l  f  i 


f     M 


;  ill' 


B 


'1 


111 
1 


but  in  our  country  districts,  where  the  people  believe  in 
ghosts  and  bugbears,  it  would  almost  certainly  produce  the 
desired  effect.  This  expedient,  instead  of  being  ridicu- 
lous, was  atrocious.    The  etnployment  of  it  could  not  fail 

to  cause  Mrs  V to  suffer  the  most  painful  agonies, 

and  her  neighbors  the  torments  of  doubt. 

The  credulity  of  the  French-Canadian  is  the  work  of 
ithe  clergy;  they  invent  and  relate,  in  order  to  excite 
their  piety,  the  most  marvellous  things.  For  example : 
the  priests  say  that  souls  in  purgatory  desiring  alleviation 
(ome  and  ask  masses  of  their  relatives,  either  by  appear- 
ing in  the  same  form  they  had  in  life,  or  by  displacing  the 
furniture  and  making  a  noise,  as  long  as  they  have  not 
terminated  the  expiation  of  their  sins.  The  Catholic 
clergy,  by  supporting  these  fabulous  doctrines  and  pious 
lies,  lead  their  flock  into  the  baleful  habit  of  believing 
things  the  most  absurd  and  destitute  of  proof. 

The  day  after  Miss  V 's  funeral,  everybody  in  the 

parish  was  talking  of  the  woeful  cries  which  had  been 
heard  the  night  before  near  her  grave.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  place,  imbued  with  fantastic  ideas  that  their  rector 
had  kept  alive,  were  dupes  of  the  artifice  employed  by 
some  of  their  own  number.  They  became  convinced  that 
there  is  no  safety  outside  of  the  church,  of  which  they 
formed  a  part.  Seized  with  horror  they  determined  never 
to  pass  a  night  near  the  grave  of  the  cursed  oncy  as  they 

already  called  the  young  Protestant.    Mrs.  V by  the 

instinctive  effect  of  prejudices  inculcated  when  she  was  a 
Catholic,  was  at  first  a  prey  to  deadly  anxiety;  but  recall- 
ing the  holy  life  of  her  daughter,  she  no  longer  doubted 
of  her  being  among  the  number  of  the  elect.  She 
guessed  at  the  cause  of  the  noise  which  was  heard  near 
the  grave  of  her  child.    In  order  to  assure  herself  of  the 


vm 


APPENDIX. 


236 


justness  of  her  suspicions,  she  besought  the  two  neighbors 
of  whom  I  have  already  spoken,  to  conceal  themsclvca 
there  the  following  night.  These  persons  were  glad  of 
an  occasion  to  test  the  accuracy  of  what  a  curate  of  their 
acquaintance  had  told  them;  who  had  asserted  that  a 
spirit  free  from  the  body  could  yet  manifest  itself  substan- 
tially to  the  living,  as  speaking  without  tongue,  touching 
without  hands. 

They  discovered  the  man  who  was  paid  to  play  the 
ghost ;  they  seized  him,  and  in  order  to  punish  him,  tied 

him  to  a  tree,  at  the  foot  of  which  Miss  V was  buried. 

The  poor  creature  the  next  morning  no  longer  acted  the 
soul  in  torment,  but  shouted  like  a  person  who  very  much 
wanted  his  breakfast.  At  noon  one  of  his  friends  passed 
by,  who,  hearing  him  implore  assistance,  approached  and 
set  him  free.  Overwhelmed  with  questions  and  derision, 
the  false  ghost  confessed  he  had  acted  thus  only  to  obtain 
the  reward  which  had  been  promised  him.  You  may 
easily  guess  that  the  ridicule  and  reprobation  turned  upon 
those  who  had  made  him  their  instrumeni 

I  will  not  finish  this  narrative  without  telling  the  reader 
that  the  curate  of  the  place  appeared  much  incensed  at 
what  his  parishioners  had  done.  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to 
suppose  that  he  condemns  rather  than  encourages  such 
conduct.  A  Protestant  friend  of  mine  who  does  not  enter- 
tain the  same  respect  for  the  Boman  clergy  that  I  do, 
advances  the  opinion  that  the  displeasure  of  the  curate 
was  not  on  account  of  the  culpable  attempt  of  some  of 
his  flock  but  on  account  of  its  failure.  However,  I  must 
add,  on  my  reputation  as  a  faithful  narrator,  that  nothing 
has  yet  happened  to  confirm  his  assertion. 

*  Ebaste  D'Orsonnens. 

Montreal,  September  1855. 


APPENDIX  II. 


OBUELTT  OF  ROMANISTS. 


ri^ 


To  show  that  the  Romish  priests  hare  in  all  ages,  and 
do  still,  inflict  upon  their  victims  cruelties  quite  as  severe 
as  anything  described  in  the  foregoing  pages,  and  that 
such  cruelties  are  sanctioned  by  their  code  of  laws,  we 
have  only  to  turn  to  the  authentic  histcfky  of  the  past  and 
present  transactions  of  the  high  functionaries  of  Rome. 

About  the  year  1356,  Nicholas  Eymeric,  inquisitor-gen- 
eral  of  Arragon,  collected  from  the  civil  and  canon  laws 
all  that  related  to  the  punishment  of  heretics,  and  formed 
the  "  Directory  of  Inquisitors,"  the  first  and  indeed  the 
fundamental  code,  which  has  been  followed  ever  since, 
without  any  essential  variation.  "  It  exhibits  the  practice 
and  theory  of  the  Inquisition  at  the  time  of  its  sanction  by 
the  approbation  of  Gregory  13th,  in  1587,  which  theory, 
under  some  necessary  variations  of  practice,  still  rem^uns 
unchanged." 

From  this  "  Directory,**  transcribed  by  the  Rev.  Wm. 
Rule  of  London,  in  1852,  we  extract  a  few  sentences  in 
relation  to  torture. 

''  Torture  is  inflicted  on  one  who  confesses  the  principal 
fact,  but  varies  as  to  circumstances.  Also  on  one  who  is 
reputed  to  be  a  heretic,  but  against  whom  there  is  only 
one  witness  of  the  fact.  In  this  case  common  rumor  is 
one  indication  of  guilt,  and  the  direct  evidence  is  another, 
making  altogether  but  semi-plenar  proof.     The  torture 


^  f  ji'ii 


IPPENDIX. 


237 


may  bring  out  full  proof.  Also,  when  there  is  no  witness, 
but  vehement  suspicion.  Also  when  there  is  no  common 
report  of  heresy,  but  only  one  witness  who  has  heard  or 
seen  something  in  him  contrary  to  the  faith.  Any  two 
indications  of  heresy  will  justify  the  use  of  torture.  If 
you  sentence  to  torture,  give  him  a  written  notice  in  the 
form  prescribed ;  but  let  other  means  be  tried  first.  Nor 
is  this  an  infallible  means  for  bringing  out  the  truth. 
Weak-hearted  men,  impatient  at  the  first  pain,  will  con- 
fess crimes  they  never  committed,  and  criminate  others  at 
the  same  time.  Bold  and  strong  ones  will  bear  the  most 
severe  torments.  Those  who  have  been  on  the  rack  before 
bear  it  with  more  courage,  for  they  know  how  to  adapt 
their  limbs  to  it,  and  they  resist  powerfully.  Others,  by 
enchantments,  seem  to  be  insensible,  and  would  rather  die 
than  confess.  These  wretches  use^for  incantations,  certain 
passages  from  the  Psalms  of  David,  or  other  parts  of 
Scripture,  which  they  write  on  virgin  parchment  in  an 
extravagant  way,  mixing  them  with  names  of  unknown 
angels,  with  circles  and  strange  letters,  which  they  wear 
.upon  their  person.  *  I  know  not,'  says  Fena,  *  how  this 
witchcraft  can  be  remedied,  but  it  will  be  well  to  strip 
the  criminals  naked,  and  search  them  narrowly,  before 
laying  them  upon  the  rack.*  While  the  tormentor  is  getting 
ready,  let  the  inquisitor  and  other  grave  men  make  fresh 
attempts  to  obtain  a  confession  of  the  truth.  Let  the  tor- 
mentors terrify  htm  hy  all  means,  to  frighten  him  into  con- 
fession.  And  after  he  is  stripped,  let  the  inquisitor  take 
him  aside,  and  make  a  last  efibrt.  When  this  has  failed, 
let  him  be  put  to  the  question  by  torture,  beginning  with 
interrogation  on  lesser  points,  and  advancing  to  greater. 
J£  he  stands  out,  let  them  show  him  other  instruments  of 
torture,  and  threaten  that  he  shall  suffer  them  also.  If  he 
will  not  confess,  the  torture  may  be  continued  on  the  sec- 


!    «    'i 


238 


APPENDIX. 


:  j' 


ond  or  third  day ;  but  as  it  is  not  to  be  repeated,  those 
successive  applications  must  be  called  continuation.  And 
if,  afler  all,  he  does  not  confess,  he  may  be  set  at  lib- 
erty." 

Rules  are  laid  down  for  the  punishment  of  thode  who 
do  confess.  Innocent  IV.  commanded  the  secular  judges 
to  put  heretics  to  torture ;  but  that  gave  occasion  to  scan- 
dalous puolicity,  and  now  inquisitors  are  empowered  to 
do  it,  and,  in  case  of  irregularity  (that  t«,  if  the  person 
dies  in  their  hands)y  to  absolve  each  other.  And  although 
nobles  were  exempt  from  torture,  and  in  some  kingdoms, 
as  Arrugon,  it  was  not  used  in  civil  tribunals,  the  inquis- 
itors were  nevertheless  authorized  to  torture,  without  re- 
striction, persons  of  all  classes. 

And  here  we  digress  from  Eymeric  and  Pena,  in  order 
to  describe,  from  additional  authority,  of  what  this  torture 
consisted,  and  probably  still  consists,  in  Italy.  Liraborch 
collects  this  information  from  Juan  de  Bojas,  inquisitor  at 
Valencia. 

**  There  were  five  degrees  of  torment  as  some  counted 
(Eymeric  included),  or  according  to  others,  three.  First, 
there  was  terror,  including  the  threatenings  of  the  inquis- 
itor, leadmg  to  the  place  of  torture,  stripping,  and  bind- 
ing ;  the  stripping  of  their  clothing,  both  men  and  women, 
with  the  substitution  of  a  single  tight  garment,  to  cover 
part  of  the  person  —  being  an  outrage  of  every  feeling 
of  decency  —  and  the  binding,  often  as  distressing  as  the 
torture  itself.  Secondly  came  the  stretching  on  the  rack, 
and  questions  attendant.  Thirdly  a  more  severe  shock, 
by  the  tension  and  sudden  relaxation  of  the  cord,  which  is 
sometimes  given  once,  but  often  twice,  thiice,  or  yet  more 
frequently." 

*' Isaac  Orobio,  a  Jewish  physician,  related  to  Lim- 
borch  the  manner  in  which  he  had  himself  been  tortured. 


III;'  V 


fl'-r'- 


APPENDIX. 


239 


when  thrown  into  the  inquisition  at  Seville,  on  the  delation 
of  a  Moorish  servant,  whom  he  had  punished  for  theft, 
and  of  another  person  similarly  offended. 

"  After  having  been  in  the  prison  of  the  ^r  /uisition  for 
full  three  years,  examined  a  few  times,  hv  constantly 
refusing  to  confess  the  things  laid  to  his  charge,  he  was 
at  length  brought  out  of  the  cell,  and  led  through  tortu- 
ous passages  to  the  place  of  torment.  It  was  near  eve- 
ning. He  found  himself  in  a  subterranean  chamber, 
rather  spacious,  arched  ove  and  b.^ng  with  black  cloth. 
The  whole  conclave  was  lighted  by  candles  .  -  sconces  on 
the  walls.  At  one  end  there  was  a  se^^^jirite  chamber, 
wherein  were  an  inquisitor  and  ''is  notary  seate  i  at  a 
table.  The  place,  gloomy,  silent,  and  everywhere  terri- 
ble, seemed  to  be  the  very  home  of  death.  Hither  he 
was  brought,  and  the  inquisitor  again  exhorted  him  to 
tell  the  truth  before  the  torture  should  begin.  On  his 
answering  that  he  had  already  told  the  truth,  the  inquisi- 
tor gravely  protested  that  he  was  bringing  himself  to  the 
torture  by  his  own  obstinacy ;  and  that  if  he  should  suffer 
loss  of  blood,  or  even  expire,  during  the  question,  the 
holy  office  would  be  blameless.  Having  thus  spoken,  the 
inquisitor  left  him  in  ^he  hands  of  the  tormentors,  who 
stripped  him,  and  com^.  '-r.^aed  his  body  so  tightly  in  a  pair 
of  linen  drawers,  that  he  could  no  longer  draw  breath,  and 
must  have  died,  had  they  not  suddenly  relaxed  the  pres- 
sure; but  with  recovered  breathing  came  pain  unutterably 
exquisite.  The  anguish  being  past,  they  repeated  a  mo- 
nition to  confess  the  truth,  before  the  torture,  as  they  said, 
should  begin ;  and  the  same  was  afterwards  repeated  at 
each  interval. 

^  As  Orobio  persisted  in  denial,  they  bound  his  thumbs 
so  tightly  with  small  cords  that  the  blood  burst  from 
under  the  nails,  and  they  were  swelled  excessively.    Then 


W 


I-    * 


1 1 


240 


APPENDIX. 


'' 


they  made  him  stand  against  the  wall  on  a  small  stool, 
passed  cords  around  various  parts  of  his  body,  but  prin- 
cipally around  the  arms  and  legs,  and  carried  them  over 
iron  pulleys  in  the  ceiling.  The  tormentor  then  pulled 
the  corda  with  all  his  strength,  applying  his  feet^  to  the 
wall,  and  giving  the  weight  of  his  body  to  increase  the 
purchase.  With  these  ligatures  his  arms  and  legs,  fingers 
and  toes,  were  so  wrung  and  swollen  that  he  felt  as  if 
fire  were  devouring  them.  Li  the  midst  of  this  torment 
the  man  kicked  down  the  stool  which  had  supported  his 
feet,  so  that  he  hung  upon  the  cords  with  his  whole  weight, 
which  suddenly  increased  their  tension,  and  gave  inde- 
scribable aggravation  to  his  pain.  Next  followed  a  new 
kind  of  torment.  An  instrument  resembling  a  small  lad- 
der, consisting  of  two  parallel  pieces  of  wood,  and  five 
transverse  pieces,  with  the  anterior  edges  sharpened,  was 
placed  before  him,  so  that  when  the  tormentor  struck  it 
heavily,  he  received  the  stroke  five  times  multiplied  on 
each  shin  bone,  producing  pain  that  was  absolutely  intol- 
erable, and  under  which  he  fainted.  But  no  sooner  was 
he  revived  than  they  inflicted  a  new  torture.  The  tor- 
mentor tied  other  cords  around  his  wrists,  and  having  his 
own  shoulders  covered  with  leather,  that  they  might  not 
be  chafed,  passed  round  them  the  rope  which  was  to  draw 
the  cords,  set  his  feet  against  the  wall,  threw  himself  back 
with  all  his  force,  and  the  cords  cut  through  to  the  bones. 
This  he  did  thrice,  each  time  changing  the  position  of  the 
cords,  leaving  a  small  distance  betwe^i  the  successive 
wounds ;  but  it  happened  that  in  pulling  the  second  tune 
they  slipped  into  the  first  wounds,  and  caused  such  a  gush 
of  blood  that  Orobio  seemed  to  be  bleeding  to  death. 

'^  A  physician  and  surgeon,  who  were  in  waiting  as 
usual,  to  give  their  opinion  as  to  the  safety  or  danger  of 
continuing  those  operations,  that  the  inquisitors  might  not 


APPENDIX. 


241 


J  small  stool, 
)dy,but  prin- 
jd  them  over 
p  tben  pulled 
is  feet'  to  the 
)  increase  the 
ttd  legs,  fingers 
he  felt  as  if 
,f  this  torment 
supported  his 
is  vfhole  weight, 
ind  gave  inde- 
bllowed  a  new 
ing  a  small  lad- 
wood,  and  five 
sharpened,  was 
jentor  struck  it 
s  multiplied  on 
labsolately  intol- 
no  sooner  was 
;ure.    The  tor- 
and  having  his 
they  might  not 
lich  was  to  draw 
!W  himself  back 
igh  to  the  bones. 
le  position  of  the 
the  successive 
the  second  time 
ised  such  a  gush 
ig  to  death. 

in  wcdting  as 
[fety  or  danger  of 
lisitors  might  not 


commit  an  irregularity  by  murdering  the  patient,  were 
called  in.  Being  friends  of  the  sufferer,  they  gave  their 
opinion  that  he  had  strength  enough  remaining  to  bear 
more.  By  this  means  they  saved  him  from  a  suspension 
of  the  torture,  which  would  have  been  followed  by  a 
repetition,  on  his  recovery,  under  the  pretext  of  continua- 
tion. The  cords  were  therefore  pulled  a  third  time,  and 
this  ended  the  torture.  He  was  dressed  in  his  own  clothes, 
carried  back  to  prison,  and,  after  about  seventy  days,  when 
the  wounds  were  healed,  condemned  as  one  suspected  of 
Judaism.  They  could  not  say  convicted^  because  he  had 
not  confessed ;  but  they  sentenced  him  to  wear  the  sam^ 
benito  *  or  penitential  habit  for  two  years,  and  then  be 
banished  for  life  from  Seville." 

*'This  sambenito  (Saco  bendito  or  blessed  sack,)  is  a  garment 
(or  kind  of  scapulary  according  to  some  writers,)  worn  by  peni- 
tents of  the  least  mminal  class  in  the  procession  of  an  Auto  de  Fe, 
(a  solemn  ceremony  held  by  the  Inquisition  for  the  punishment  of 
heretics,)  but  sometimes  worn  as  a  punishment  at  odier  times,  that 
the  condemned  one  might  be  marked  by  his  neighbors,  and  ever 
bear  a  signal  that  would  affright  and  scare  by  the  greatness  of  the 
punishment  and  disgrace;  a  plan,  salutary  it  may  be,  but  very  griev- 
ous to  the  offender.  It  was  made  of  yellow  cloth,  with  a  St.  An- 
drew's cross  upon  it,  of  red.  A  rope  was  sometimes  put  around  the 
neck  as  an  additional  mark  of  infamy. 

Those  who  were  condemned  to  be  burnt  were  distinguished  by  a 
habit  of  the  same  form,  called  Zamarra,  but  instead  of  the  red  cross 
were  painted  flames  and  devils,  and  sometimes  an  ugly  portrait  of 
the  heretic  himself, — a  head,  with  flames  under  it.  Those  who  had 
been  sentenced  to  the  stake,  but  indulged  with  commutation  of  the 
penalty,  had  inverted  flames  painted  on  the  livery,  and  this  was 
called /ue^o  revueho,  "inverted  fire." 

Upon  the  head  of  the  condemned  was  also  placed  a  conical  paper 
cap,  about  three  feet  high,  slightly  resembling  a  mitre,  called  corona 
or  crown.  This  was  painted  with  flames  and  devils  in  like  manner 
with  the  dress. 

21 


ipH^ 


!  "t  ' 


I' 


I!  I, 


APPENDIX   III.  .       , 

INQUISITION  OF   QOA  —  IMPRISONMENT   OF  M.  DBLLON, 

1673. 

"  M.  Dellon  a  French  traveller,  spending  some  time  at 
Damaun,  on  the  north-western  coast  of  Hindostan,  incur- 
red the  jealousy  of  the  governor  and  a  black  priest,  in 
regard  to  a  lady,  as  he  is  pleased  to  call  her,  whom  they 
both  admired.  He  had  expressed  himself  rather  freely 
concerning  some  of  the  grosser  superstitions  of  Roman- 
ism, and  thus  afforded  the  priest,  who  was  also  secretary 
of  the  Inquisition,  an  occasion  of  proceeding  against  him 
as  a  heretic.  The  priest  and  the  governor  united  in  a 
representation  to  the  chief  inquisitor  at  Groa,  which  pro- 
cured an  order  for  his  ari'est.  Like  all  other  persons 
whom  it  pleased  the  inquisitors  or  their  servants  to  arrest, 
in  any  part  of  the  Portuguese  dominions  beyond  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope,  he  was  thrown  into  prison  with  a  promis- 
cuous crowd  of  delinquents,  the  place  and  treatment  being 
of  the  worst  kind,  even  according  to  the  colonial  barbarism 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  To  describe  his  sufferings 
there,  is  not  to  our  purpose,  inasmuch  as  all  prisoners 
fared  alike,  many  of  them  perishing  ih>m  starvation 
and  disease.  Many  offenders  against  the  Inquisition  were 
there  at  the  same  time, — some  accused  of  Judaism,  others, 
of  Paganism  —  in  which  sorcery  and  witchcraft  were 
included — and  others  of  immorality.  In  a  field  so  wide 
and  so  fruitful,  the  **  scrutators  "  of  the  faith  could  not  fail 


APPENDIX. 


2Ui 


»  some  time  at 
ndostan,  incur- 
)lack  priest,  m. 
er,  whom  they 
f  rather  freely 
ons  of  Boman- 
I  also  secretary 
ing  against  him 
lor  united  in  a 
which  pro- 
other  persons 
irvants  to  arrest, 
leyond  the  Cape 
with  apromis- 
treatment  heing 
lonial  barbarism 
le  his  sufferings 
as  all  prisoners 
[from  starvation 
Inquisition  were 
Judaism,  others, 
[witchcraft  were 
.  a  field  so  wide 
lith  could  not  fail 


to  gather  abundantly.  After  an  incarceration  of  at  least 
four  months,  he  and  his  fellow-sufferers  were  shipped  off 
for  the  ecclesiastical  metropolis  of  India,  all  of  them  being 
in  irons.  The  vessel  put  into  Bacaim,  and  the  prisoners 
were  transferred,  for  some  days,  to  the  prison  of  that  town, 
where  a  large  number  of  persons  were  kept  in  custody, 
under  charge  of  the  commissary  of  the  holy  office,  until  a 
vessel  should  arrive  to  carry  them  to  Goa. 

"  In  due  time  they  were  again  at  sea,  and  a  fair  wind 
wafted  their  fleet  into  that  port  after  a  voyage  of  seven 
days.  Until  the  7  could  be  deposited  in  the  cells  of  the 
Inquisition  with  ihe  accustomed  formalities,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Goa  ihreyf  open  his  prison  for  their  reception, 
which  prison,  being  ecclesiastical,  may  be  deemed  worthy 
of  description.  „. 

"  The  most  filthy,"  says  Dellon,  "  the  most  dark,  aiid  ^^ 
the  most  horrible  that  I  ever  saw ;  and  I  doubt  whether  a 
more  shocking  and  horrible  prison  can  be  found  anywhere. 
It  is  a  kind  of  cave  wherein  there  is  no  day  seen  but  by  a 
very  little  hole ;  the  most  subtle  rays  of  the  sun  cannot 
enter  into  it,  and  there  is  never  any  trtte  light  in  it.  The 
stench  is  extreme.      ****** 

**  On  the  IGth  of  January  1674,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  an  officer  came  with  orders  to  take  the  prisoners 
to  "the  holy  house."  With  considerable  difficulty  M. 
Dellon  dragged  his  iron-loaded  limbs  thither.  They 
helped  him  to  ascend  the  stairs  at  the  great  entrance,  and 
in  the  hall,  smiths  were  waiting  to  take  off  the  irons  from 
all  the  prisoners.  One  by  one,  they  were  summoned  to 
audience.  Dellon,  who  was  called  the  first,  crossed  the 
hall,  passed  through  an  ante-chamber,  and  entered  a  room, 
called  by  the  Portuguese  "  board  of  the  holy  office,"  where 
the  grand  inquisitor  of  the  Indies  eat  at  one  end  of  a  very 


244 


APPENDIX. 


:»'■ 


■■-'  f 


large  table,  on  an  elevated  floor  in  the  middle  of  the  cham* 
ber.  He  was  a  secular  priest  about  ^orty  years  of  age^ 
in  full  vigor — a  man  who  could  do  his  work  with  energy. 
At  one  end  of  the  room  was  a  large  crucifix,  reaching 
from  the  floor  almost  to  the  ceiling,  and  near  it^  sat  a 
notary  on  a  foldinor  stool.  At  the  opposite  end,  and  near 
the  inquisitor,  Deilon  was  placed,  and,  hoping  to  soften 
his  judge,  fell  on  his  knees  before  him.  But  the  aquisi- 
tor  commanded  him  to  rise,  asked  whether  he  knew  the 
reason  of  his  arrest,  and  advised  him  to  declare  it  at  large, 
as  that  was  the  only  way  to  obtain  a  speedy  release. 
Deilon  caught  at  the  hope  of  release,  began  to  tell  his  tale, 
mixed  with  tears  and  protestations,  again  fell  at  the  feet 
of  Don  F.'ancisco  Delgado  Emaios,  the  inquisitor,  and 
implored  his  favorable  attention.  Don  Frencisco  told 
him,  very  coolly,  that  he  had  other  business  on  hand,  and, 
nothing  moved,  rang  a  silver  bell.  The  alcayde  entered, 
led  the  prisoner  out  into  a  gallery,  opened,  and  searched 
his  trunk,  stripped  him  of  every  valuable,  wrote  an  inven- 
tory, assured  him  that  all  should  be  safely  kept,  and  then 
led  him  to  a  cell  about  ten  feet  square,  and  left  him  there, 
shut  up  in  utter  solitude.  In  the  evening  they  brought 
him  his  first  meal,  which  he  ate  heartily,  and  slept  a  little 
during  the  night  following.  Next  morning  he  learnt  that 
he  could  have  no  part  of  his  property,  not  even  a  breviary 
was,  in  that  place,  allowed  to  a  priest,  for  they  had  no 
form  of  religion  there,  and  for  that  reason  he  could  not 
have  a  book.  His  hair  was  cropped  close ;  and  therefore 
"  he  did  not  need  a  comb." 

"  Thus  began  his  acquaintance  with  the  holy  house, 
which  he  describes  as  "great  and  magnificent,"  on  one  side 
of  the  great  space  before  the  church  ol  St  Catharine. 
There  were  three  gates  in  front ;  and  it  was  by  the  cen- 


APPENDIX. 


215 


tral,  or  largest,  that  the  prisoners  entered,  and  mounted  a 
stately  flight  of  steps,  leading  into  the  great  hall.  The 
side  gates  provided  entrance  to  spacious  ranges  of  apart- 
ments, belonging  to  the  inquisitors.  Behind  the  principal 
building,  was  another,  very  spacious,  two  stories  high,  and 
consisting  of  double  rows  of  cells,  opening  into  galleries 
that  ran  from  end  to  end.  The  cells  on  the  ground-floor 
were  very  small,  without  any  aperture  from  without  for 
light  or  air.  Those  of  the  upper  story  were  vauued, 
white-washed,  had  a  small  strongly  grated  window,  with- 
out glass,  ana  higher  than  the  tallest  man  could  reach. 
Towards  the  gallery  every  cell  was  shut  with  two  doors, 
one  on  the  inside,  the  other  one  outside  of  the  wall.  The 
inner  door  folded,  was  grated  at  the  bottom,  opened  tow- 
ards the  top  for  the  admission  of  food  and  was  made  fast 
with  very  strong  bolts.  The  outer  door  was  not  so  thick, 
had  no  window,  but  was  left  open  f-'om  six  o'clock  every 
morning  until  eleven  —  a  necessary  arrangement  in  that 
climate.  Unless  it  were  intended  to  destroy  life  by  suffoca- 
tion. 

"  To  each  prisoner  was  given  an  earthen  pot  with  water 
wherewith  to  wash,  another  full  of  water  to  drink,  with  a 
cup ;  a  broom,  a  mat  whereon  to  lie,  and  a  large  basin 
with  a  cover,  changed  every  fourth  day.  The  prisoners 
had  three  meals  a  day ;  and  their  health  so  far  as  food 
could  contribute  to  it  in  such  a  place,  was  cared  for  in  the 
provision  of  a  wholesome,  but  spare  diet.  Physicians 
were  at  hand  to  render  all  necessary  assistance  to  the  sick^ 
as  were  confessors,  ready  to  wait  upon  the  dying ;  but 
they  gave  no  viaticum,  performed  no  unction,  said  no 
mass.  The  place  was  under  an  impenetrable  interdict. 
If  any  died,  and  that  many  did  die  b  beyond  question,  his 
death  was  unknown  to  all  without ;  he  was  buried  within 

21* 


..  f-, 


!:^  . 


Lin  ,t>l 


■I 


i    il 


,  ~.  ^ 


ii-i 


'  1  *'M4i  m 


I 


246 


APPENDIX. 


the  walls  without  any  f acred  oeremopy;  and  if,  after 
death,  he  was  found  to  have  died  in  heresy,  his  hones 
were  taken  up  at  the  n<:xt  Auto,  to  be  5i\rned.  Unless 
there  happened  to  be  nxi  unifouus  jiuda!  f  ^  of  prisonere, 
each  one  \vtis  alone  in  his  r>wn  cell.  He  might  not^ speak, 
nor  groan,  nor  sob  aloud,  nor  sigh.  *  His  breathing  might 
be  audible  when  the  guard  listened  at  t^e  grating,  but 
nothing  more.  Four  guards  were  stauoned  in  each  long 
gallery,  open,  indeed,  at  each  one!  bat  tiwfuUy  silent,  as  if 
iit  were  the  passage  of  iv  cati*?jmb.  If,  however,  he 
wanted  anything,  he  might  tap  at  the  inner  door,  when  a 
jailer  would  come  to  hear  the  request,  and  would  report  to 
the  alcayde,  but  was  not  permitted  to  answer.  If  one  of 
the  victims,  in  despair,  or  pain,  or  delirium,  attempted  to 
pronounce  a  prayer,  even  to  God,  or  dared  to  utter  a  cry, 
the  jailers  would  run  to  the  cell,  rush  in,  and  beat  him 
cruelly,  for  terror  to  the  rest.  Once  in  two  months  the 
inquisitor,  with  a  secretary  and  an  interpreter,  visited  the 
prisons,  and  asked  each  prisoner  if  he  wanted  anything, 
if  his  meat  was  regularly  brought,  and  if  he  had  any 
complaint  against  the  jailers.  His  want  after  all  lay  at 
the  mercy  of  the  merciless.  His  complaint,  if  uttered, 
would  bring  down  vengeance,  rather  than  gain  redress. 
But  m  this  visitation  the  holy  office  professed  mercy  with 
much  formality,  and  the  inquisitorial  secretary  collected 

^I'Limborch  relates  that  on  one  occasion,  a  poor  prisoner  was 
heard  to  cough ;  the  jailer  of  the  Inquisition  instantly  repaired  to 
him,  and  warned  him  to  forbear,  as  the  slightest  noise  was  not  tole- 
rated in  that,  house.  The  poor  man  replied  that  it  was  not  in  his 
power  iQ  forbear ;  a  second  time  they  admonished  him  to  desist ; 
and  when  again,  unable  to  dp  otherwise,  he  repeated  the  offence, 
they  stripped  him  naked,  and  cruelly  beat  him,.  This  increased  his 
cough,  for  which  they  beat  him  so  often,  that  at  last  hd  f^ied  though 
pain  and  anguish  of  the  stripes  he  had  received. 


APPENDIX. 


247 


and  if,  after 
sy,hi8  bones 
ned.    Unless 
of  priaonere, 
ght  not^speak, 
euthing  migbt 
e  grating,  but 
i  in  each  long 
lly  silent,  as  if 
f,  however,  he 
r  door,  when  a 
would  report  to 
ver.    If  one  of 
n,  attempted  to 
d  to  utter  a  cry, 
I,  and  beat  him 
wo  months  the 
reter,  visited  the 
anted  anything, 
if  he  had  any 
after  all  lay  at 
laint,  if  uttered, 
tsi  gain  redress. 
3sed  mercy  with 
cretary  collected 

poor  prisoner  was 
astantly  repaired  to 
noise  was  not  tole- 
iat  it  was  not  in  his 
Jied  him  to  desist ; 
[peated  the  offence, 
1  This  increased  his 

lastbe^iedt^?^'*^^ 


notes  which  aided  in  the  crimination,  or  in  the  murder  of 
their  victims. 

"The  oflScers  of  Groa  were, — the  tnquistdor  mor  or 
grand  inquisitor,  who  was  always  a  secular  priest ;  the 
second  inquisitor,  Dominican  friar ;  several  deputies,  who 
came,  when  called  for,  to  assist  the  inquisitors  at  trials, 
but  never  entered  without  such  a  summons ;  qualifiers,  as 
usual,  to  examine  books  and  writings,  but  never  to  witness 
an  examination  of  the  living,  or  be  present  at  any  act  of 
the  kind ;  a  fiscal ;  a  procurator ;  advocates,  so  called,  for 
the  accused;  notaries  and  familiars.  The  authority  of 
this  tribunal  was  absolute  in  Groa.  There  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  anything  peculiar  in  the  manner  of  exam- 
ining and  torturing  at  Goa  where  the  practice  coincided 
with  that  of  Portugal  and  Spain. 

"  The  personal  narrative  of  Dellon  affords  a  distinct 
exemplification  of  the  sufferings  of  the  prisoners.  He 
had  been  told  that,  when  he  desired  an  audience,  he  had 
only  to  call  a  jailer,  and  ask  it,  when  it  would  be  allowed 
him.  But,  notwithstanding  many  tears  and  entreaties,  he 
could  not  obtain  one  until  fifteen  days  had  passed  away. 
Then  came  the  alcayde  and  one  of  his  guards.  This 
alcayde  walked  first  out  of  the  cell ;  Dellon  uncovered 
and  shorn,  and  with  legs  and  feet  bare,  followed  him ;  the 
guard  walked  behind.  The  alcayde  just  entered  the  place 
of  audience,  made  a  profound  reverence,  stepped  back  and 
allowed  his  charge  to  enter.  The  door  closed,  and  Del- 
lon remained  alone  with  the  inquisitor  and  secretary.  He 
knelt ;  but  Don  Fernando  sternly  bade  him  to  sit  on  a 
bench,  placed  there  for  the  use  of  the  culprits.  Near 
him,  on  a  table,  lay  a  missal,  on  which  they  made  him  lay 
his  hand,  and  swear  to  keep  secrecy,  and  tell  them  the 
truth.    They  asked  if  he  knew  the  cause  of  his  impris- 


I    I 


248 


APPENDIX. 


onment,  and  whether  he  was  resolved  to  confess  it.  He 
told  them  all  he  could  recollect  of  unguarded  sayings  at 
Damaun,  either  in  argument  or  conversation,  without  ever, 
that  he  knew,  contradicting,  directly  or  indirectly,  any 
article  of  faith.  He  had,  at  some  time  dropped  ain  offen- 
sive word  concerning  the  Inquisition,  but  so  light  a  word, 
tliat  it  did  not  occur  to  his  remembrance.  Don  Fernando 
told  him  he  had  done  well  in  accusing  AtWe(^  so  willingly, 
and  exhorted  him  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  com- 
plete his  self  accusation  fully,  to  the  end  that  he  might 
experience  the  goodness  and  mercy  which  were  used  in 
that  tribunal  towards  those  who  showed  true  repentance 
by  a  sincere  and  unforced  confession.  The  secretary  read 
aloud  the  confession  and  exhortation,  Dellon  signed  it, 
Don  Fernando  rang  a  silver  bell,  the  alcayde  wallted  in, 
and,  in  a  few  moments,  the  disappointed  victim  was  again 
in  his  dungeon. 

"  At  the  end  of  another  fortnight,  and  without  having 
asked  for  it,  he  was  again  taken  to  audience.  After  a 
repetition  of  the  former  questions,  he  was  asked  his  name, 
surname,  baptism,  confirmation,  place  of  abode,  in  what 
parioh?  in  what  diocess?  under  what  bishop?  They 
made  him  kneel,  and  make  the  sign  of  the  cross,  repeat 
the  Pater  Noster,  Hail  Mary,  creed,  commandments  of 
God,  commandments  of  the  church,  and  Salve  Begina. 
He  did  it  all  very  cleverly,  and  even  to  their  satisfaction ; 
but  the  grand  inquisitor  exhorted  him,  by  the  tender  mer- 
cies of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  confess  without  delay, 
and  sent  him  to  the  cell  again.  His  heart  sickened. 
They  required  him  to  do  what  was  impossible  <—  to  con- 
fess more,  after  he  had  acknowledged  alL  In  despair,  he 
tried  to  starve  himself  to  death ;  '  but  they  compelled  him 
to  take  food.'    Day  and  night  he  wept,  and  at  length  be- 


APPENDIX. 


249 


took  himself  to  prayer,  imploring  pity  of  the  'blessed 
Virgin,'  whom  he  imagined  to  be,  of  all  beings,  the  most 
merciful,  and  the  most  ready  to  give  him  help. 

"At  the  end  of  a  month,  he  succeeded  in  obtaining 
another  audience,  and  added  to  his  former  confessions 
Mrhat  he  had  remembered,  for  the  first  time,  touching  the 
Inquisition.  But  they  told  lum  that  that  was  not  what 
they  wanted,  and  sent  him  back  again.  This  was  intole- 
rable. In  a  frenzy  of  despair  he  determined  to  commit 
suicide,  if  possible.  Feigning  sickness,  he  obtained  a 
physician  who  treated  him  for  a  fever,  and  ordered  him  to 
be  bled.  Never  calmed  by  any  treatment  of  the  physi- 
cian, blood-letting  was  repeated  often,  and  each  time  he 
untied  the  bandage,  when  left  alone,  hoping  to  die  from 
loss  of  blood,  but  death  fled  from  him.  A  humane  Fran- 
dscan  came  to  confess  him,  and,  hearing  his  tale  of  mis- 
ery, gave  him  kind  words,  asked  permission  to  divulge  his 
attempt  at  self-destruction  to  the  inquisitor,  procured  him 
a  mitigation  of  solitude  by  the  presence  of  a  fellow-pris- 
oner, a  negro,  accused  of  magic ;  but,  after  five  months, 
the  negro  was  removed,  and  his  mind,  broken  with  suffer- 
ing, could  no  longer  bear  up  under  the  aggravated  load. 
By  an  effort  of  desperate  ingenuity  he  almost  succeeded 
in  committing  suicide,  and  a  jailer  found  him  weltering  in 
his  blood  and  insensible.  Having  restored  him  by  cor- 
dials, and  bound  up  his  wounds,  they  carried  him  into  the 
presence  of  the  inquisitor  once  more ;  where  he  lay  on 
the  floor,  being  unable  to  sit,  heard  bitter  reproaches,  had 
his  limbs  confined  in  irons,  and  was  thus  carried  back  to  a 
punishment  that  seemed  more  terrible  than  death.  In 
fetters  he  became  so  furious,  that  they  found  it  necessary 
to  take  them  off,  and,  from  that  time,  his  examinations 
assumed  another  character,  m  he  defended  his  positions 


A. 


!  ^ 


2r)0 


AT'I'KNniX. 


'^ 


mi  '■ 


with  citations  from  the  Council  of  Trent,  and  with  dome 
passages  of  scripture,  which  he  explained  in  the  most 
Romish  sense,  discovering  a  depth  of  ignorance  in  Don 
Fernando  that  was  truly  surprising.  That  *  grand  Inquis- 
itor,' had  never  heard  the  passage  which  Dellon  quoted 
to  prove  the  doctrine  of  baptismal  regeneration,  *  Except 
a  man  be  bom  of  water  and  of  the  Spirit,  ho  cannot 
enter  into  the  kingdom  of  Grod.'  Neither  did  he  know 
anything  of  that  famous  passage  in  the  twenty>flflh  session 
of  the  Council  of  Trent,  which  deck.res  that  images  are 
only  to  be  reverenced  on  account  of  the  persons  whom 
they  represent.  He  called  for  a  Bible,  and  for  the  acts  of 
the  council,  and  was  evidently  surprised  when  he  found 
them  where  Dellon  told  him  they  might  be  seen. 

^  The  time  for  a  general  auto  drew  near.  During  the 
months  of  November  and  December,  1675,  he  heard  every 
morning  the  cries  of  pernons  under  torture,  and  afterwards 
saw  many  of  them,  both  men  and  women,  lame  and  dis- 
torted by  the  rack.  On  Sunday  January  11th,  1676,  he 
was  surprised  by  the  jailer  refusing  to  receive  his  linen 
to  be  washed  —  Sunday  being  washing-day  in  the  *  holy 
house.'  While  perplexing  himself  to  think  what  that 
could  mean,  the  cathedral  bells  rang  for  vespers,  and  then, 
contrary  to  custom,  rang  again  for  matins.  He  could 
only  account  for  that  second  novelty  by  supposing  that  an 
auto  would  be  celebrated  the  next  day.  They  brought 
him  supper,  which  he  refused  ;  and,  contrary  to  their  wont 
at  all  other  times,  they  did  not  insist  on  his  taking  it,  but 
carried  it  away.  Assured  that  those  were  all  portents  of 
the  horrible  catastrophe,  and  reflecting  on  oflen-repeated 
threats  in  the  audience  chamber  that  he  -should  be 
burnt,  he  gave  himself  up  to  death,  and,  oyerwhelmed 
with  sorrow,  tcU  asleep  a  little  before  midnight 


APPENDIX. 


261 


*'  Scarcely  had  he  fallen  asleep  when  the  alcajde  and 
guards  entered  the  cell,  with  great  noise,  bringing  a  lamp, 
for  the  first  time  since  his  imprisonment  that  they  had 
allowed  a  lamp  to  shine  there.  The  alcayde,  laying  down 
a  suit  of  clothes,  bade  him  put  them  on,  and  be  ready  to 
go  out  when  he  came  again.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing they  returned,  and  he  issued  from  the  cell,  clad  in  a 
black  vest  and  trowsers,  striped  with  white,  and  his  feet 
bare.  About  two  hundred  prisoners,  of  whom  he  was 
one,  were  made  to  sit  on  the  floor,  along  the  sides  of  a 
spacious  gallery,  all  in  the  same  black  livery,  and  just 
visible  by  the  gleaming  of  a  few  lamps.  A  large  com- 
pany of  women  were  also  ranged  in  a  neighboring  gallery 
in  like  manner.  But  they  were  all  motionless,  and  no  one 
knew  his  doom.  Every  eye  was  fixed,  and  each  one 
seemed  benumbed  with  mistsry. 

"  A  third  company  Dellon  perceived  in  a  room  not  far 
distant,  but  they  were  walking  about,  and  some  appeared 
to  have  long  habits.  Those  were  persons  condemned  to 
be  delivered  to  the  secular  arm,  and  the  long  habits  dis- 
tinguished confessors  busily  collecting  confessions  in  order 
to  commute  that  penalty  for  some  other  scarcely  less 
dreadful.  At  four  o'clock,  servants  of  the  house  came, 
with  guards,  and  gave  bread  and  figs  to  those  who  would 
accept  the  refreshment.  One  '>f  the  guards  gave  Dellon 
some  hope  of  life  by  advisiog  him  to  take  what  was 
offered,  which  he  had  refused  ^d  do.  *  Take  your  bread,' 
said  the  man,  *  and  if  you  cannot  eat  it  now,  put  it  in 
your  pocket;  you  will  be  certainly  hungry  before  you 
return.'  This  gave  hope  that  he  should  not  end  the  day 
at  the  stake,  but  come  back  to  undergo  penance. 

^'  A  little  before  sunrise,  the  great  bell  of  the  cathedral 
tolled,  and  its  sound  soon  aroused  the  city  of  Groa.    The 


I  /     I 


252 


APPENDIX. 


people  ran  into  the  streets,  lining  the  chief  thoroughfares, 
and  crowding  every  place  whence  a  view  could  be  had 
of  the  procession.  Day  broke,  and  Dellon  saw  the  faces 
of  his  fellow-prisoners,  most  of  whom  were  Indians.  He 
could  only  distinguish,  by  their  complexion,  about  twelve 
Europeans.  Every  countenance  exhibited  sheune,  fear, 
grief,  01  an  appalling  blackness  of  apathy,  cu  if  dire  iuf- 
fering  in  the  lightlese  dungeons  underneath  had  bereft  them 
of  intellect.  The  company  soon  began  to  move,  but  slowly, 
as  one  by  one  the  alcayde  led  them  towards  the  door  of 
the  great  hall,  where  the  grand  inquisitor  sat,  and  his 
secretary  called  the  name  of  each  as  he  came,  and  the 
name  of  a  sponsor,  who  also  presented  himself  from  among 
a  crowd  of  the  bettermost  inhabitants  of  6oa,  assembled 
there  for  that  service.  '  The  general  of  the  Portuguese 
ships  in  the  Indies '  had  the  honor  of  placing  himself  be- 
side our  Frenchman.  As  soon  as  the  procession  was 
formed,  it  marched  off  in  the  usual  order. 

**  First,  the  Dominicans,  honored  with  everlasting  pre- 
cedence on  all  such  occasions,  led  the  way.  Singing-boys 
also  preceded,  chanting  a  litany.  The  banner  of  the 
Inquisition  was  intrusted  to  their  hands.  After  the  ban- 
ner walked  the  penitents — a  penitent  and  a  sponsor,  two 
and  two.  A  cross  bearer  brought  up  the  train,  carrying 
a  crucifix  alofl,  turned  towards  them,  in  token  of  pity ; 
and,  on  looking  along  the  line,  you  might  have  seen 
another  priest  going  before  the  penitents  with  a  crucifix 
turned  backwards,  inviting  their  devotions.  They  to 
whom  the  Inquisition  no  longer  afforded  mercy,  walked 
behind  the  penitents,  and  could  only  see  an  averted  cruci- 
fix. These  were  condemned  to  be  burnt  alive  at  the 
stake  I  On  this  occasion  there  were  but  two  of  this  class, 
but  sometimes  a  large  number  were  sentenced  to  this  hor- 


▲PPINDIZ. 


263 


thoroughfares, 
'  could  be  had 
i  saw  the  faces 
0  Indians.  II'J 
a,  about  twelve 
ed  shune,  fear, 
,  at  if  dire  tuf- 

had  bereft  them 
love,  but  slowly, 
rds  the  door  of 
tor  sat,  and  his 
)  came,  and  the 
iself  from  among 

Qo&i  assembled 

the  Portuguese 
cing  himself  be- 

procession  was 

everlasting  pre- 
Singing-boys 
3  banner  of  the 
After  the  ban- 
d  a  sponsor,  two 
e  train,  carrying 
a  token  of  pity; 
night  have  seen 
its  with  a  crucifix 
tions.     They  to 
d  mercy,  walked 
an  averted  cruci- 
mt  alive  at  the 
two  of  this  class, 
meed  to  this  hor- 


rible death,  and  presented  to  the  spectator  a  most  pitiable 
spectacle.  Many  of  them  bore  upon  their  persons  the 
marks  of  starvation,  torture,  terror,  and  heart-rending 
grief.  Some  faces  were  bathed  in  tears,  while  others 
came  forth  with  a  smile  of  conquest  on  the  countenance 
and  words  of  triumphant  faith  bursting  from  the  lips. 
These,  however,  were  known  as  dogmatizers,  and  were 
generally  gagged,  the  mouth  being  filled  with  a  piece  of 
wood  kept  in  by  a  strong  leather  band  fastened  behind 
the  head,  and  the  arms  tied  together  behind  the  back. 
Two  armed  familiars  walked  or  rode  beside  each  of  these, 
and  two  ecclesiastics,  or  some  other  clerks  or  regulars,  also 
attended.  After  the&e,  the  images  of  heretics  who  had 
escaped  were  carried  aloft^  to  be  thrown  into  the  fiames ; 
and  porters  came  last,  tugging  under  the  weight  of  boxes 
containing  the  disinterred  bodies  on  which  the  execution 
of  the  church  had  fallen,  and  which  were  also  to  be 
burnt. 

"  Poor  Dellon  went  barefoot,  like  the.  rest,  through  the 
streets  of  Groa,  rough  with  little  flint  stones  scattered  about, 
and  sorely  were  his  feet  wounded  during  an  hour's  march 
up  and  down  the  principal  streets.  Weary,  covered  with 
shame  and  confusion,  the  long  train  of  culprits  entered  the 
church  of  St.  Francis,  where  preparation  was  made  for 
the  auto,  the  climate  of  India  not  permitting  a  celebration 
of  that  solemnity  under  the  burning  sky.  They  sat  with 
their  sponsors,  in  the  galleries  prepared,  sambcnitoa,  grey 
zamarras  with  painted  fiames  and  devils,  oorozas,  tapers, 
and  all  the  other  paraphernalia  of  an  auto,  made  up  a 
woful  spectacle.  The  inquisitor  and  other  personages 
having  taken  their  seats  of  state,  the  provincial  of  the 
Augustinians  mounted  the  pulpit  and  delivered  the  ser- 
mon.   Dellon  preserved  but  one  note  of  it    The  preacher 

22 


;  * 


254 


APPENDIX. 


ilyi  'B 


m^ 


:i  iMf. 


'  'i'M 


ih 


u 


compared  the  Inquisition  to  Noah's  ark,  which  received  all 
sorts  of  beasts  vnldf  but  sent  them  out  tame.  The  appear- 
ance of  hundreds  who  had  been  inmates  of  that  ark  cer- 
tainly justified  the  figure. 

**  After  the  sermon,  two  readers  went  up,  one  after  the 
other,  into  the  same  pulpit,  and,  between  them,  they  read 
the  processes  and  pronounced  the  sentences,  the  person 
standing  before  them,  with  the  alcayde,  and  holding  a 
lighted  taper  in  his  hand.  Dcllon,  in  turn,  heard  the 
cause  of  his  long  sufiering.  He  had  maintained  the  in- 
validity of  baptismus  Jktmmis,  or  desire  to  be  baptised, 
when  there  is  no  one  to  administer  the  rite  of  baptism  by 
water.  He  had  said  that  images  ought  not  to  be  adored, 
and  that  an  ivory  crucifix  was  a  piece  of  ivory.  He  had 
spoken  contemptuously  of  the  Inquisition.  And,  above 
all,  he  had  an  ill  intention.  His  punishment  was  to  be 
confiscation  of  his  property,  banishment  from  India,  and 
five  years'  service  in  the  galleys  in  Portugal,  with  pen- 
ance, as  the  inquisitors  might  enjoin.  As  all  the  prisoners 
were  excommunicate,  the  inquisitor,  after  the  sentence 
had  been  pronounced,  put  on  his  alb  and  stole,  walked 
into  the  middle  of  the  church,  and  absolved  them  all  at 
once.  Dillon's  sponsor,  who  would  not  even  answer  him 
before,  when  he  spoke,  now  embraced  him,  called  him 
brother,  and  gave  him  a  pinch  of  snufT,  in  token  of  recon- 
ciliation. 

**  But  there  were  two  persons,  a  man  and  a  woman,  for 
whom  the  church  had  no  more  that  they  could  do;  and  these, 
with  four  dead  bodies,  and  the  effigies  of  the  dead,  were 
taken  to  be  burnt  on  the  Campo  Santo  Lazaro,  on  the 
river  side,  the  place  appointed  for  that  purpose,  that  the 
viceroy  might  see  justice  done  on  the  heretics,  as  he  sur- 
veyed the  execution  firom  his  palace-windows.** 


APPENDIX. 


255 


The  remainder  of  Dellon's  history  adds,  nothing  to 
what  we  have  already  heard  of  the  Inquisition.  He  was 
taken  to  Lisbon,  and,  after  working  in  a  gang  of  convicts 
for  some  time,  was  released  on  the  intercession  of  some 
friends  in  France  with  the  Portuguese  government.  With 
regard  to  his  despair,  and  attempts  to  commit  suicide,  when 
in  the  holy  house,  we  may  observe  that,  as  he  states,  sui- 
cide was  very  frequent  there.  The  contrast  of  his  discon- 
solate impatience  with  the  resignation  and  constancy  of 
Christian  confessors  in  similar  circumstances,  is  obvious. 
As  a  striking  illustration  of  the  difference  between  those 
who  suffer  without  a  consciousness  of  divine  favor,  and 
those  who  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory, 
we  would  refer  the  reader  to  that  noble  band  of  martyrs 
who  suffered  death  at  the  stake,  at  the  Auto  held  in  Se- 
ville, on  Sunday,  September  24,  1559.  At  that  time 
twenty-one  were  burnt,  followed  by  one  effigy,  and  eighteen 
penitents,  who  were  released. 

"  One  of  the  former  was  Don  Juan  Gonzales,  Presby- 
ter of  Seville,  an  eminent  preacher.  With  admirable 
constancy  he  refused  to  make  any  declaration,  in  spite  of 
the  severe  torture,  saying  that  he  had  not  followed  any 
erroneous  opinions,  but  that  he  had  drawn  his  faith  from 
the  holy  Scripturej ;  and  for  this  faith  he  pleaded  to  his 
tormentors  in  the  words  of  inspiration.  He  maintained 
that  he  was  not  a  heretic,  but  a  Christian,  and  absolutely 
refused  to  divulge  anything  that  would  bring  his  brethren 
into  trouble.  Two  sisters  of  his  were  also  brought  out  to 
this  Auto,  and  dispfayed  equal  faith.  They  would  confess 
Christ,  they  said,  and  suffer  with  their  brother,  whom  they 
revered  as  a  wibr;  and  holy  man.  They  were  all  tied  to 
stakes  on  the  querradero,  a  piece  of  pavement,  without  the 
walls  of  the  city,  devoted  to  the  single  use  of  burning 


256 


APPENDIX. 


!       1 


human  victims.  Sometimes  this  quemadero  *  was  a  raised 
platform  of  stone,  adorned  with  pillows  or  surrounded 
with  statues,  to  distinguish  and  beautify  the  spot.  Just 
as  the  fire  was  lit,  the  gag,  which  had  hitherto  silenced 
Don  Juan,  was  removed,  and  as  the  flames  burst  from 
the  fagots,  he  said  to  his  sisters, '  Let  us  sing,  Deus  lau' 
dem  meam  ne  tacueris*  And  they  sang  together,  while 
burning, '  Hold  not  thy  peace,  O  God  of  my  praise ;  for 
the  mouth  of  the  wicked  and  the  mouth  of  the  deceitful 
are  opened  against  me:  they  have  spoken  against  me 
with  a  lying  tongue.'  Thus  they  died  in  the  faith  of 
Christ,  and  of  his  holy  gospel." 

*  Llorente,  the  historian  of  the  Spanish  Inquisition,  says,  "  So 
many  persons  were  to  be  put  to  death  by  fire,  the  governor  of  Se- 
ville  caused  a  permanent  raised  platform  of  masonry  to  be  con> 
structed  outside  the  city,  which  has  lasted  to  our  time  (until  the 
French  revolution)  retaining  its  name  of  Que.nadero,  or  burning- 
place,  and  at  the  four  corners  four  large  hollow  statutes  of  limestone, 
within  which  they  used  to  place  the  impenitent  alive,  that  they  might 
die  by  slow  fires." 


APPENDIX   IV. 


INQUISITION   OP  GOA,  CONCLUDED. 

The  Inquisition  of  Groa  continued  its  Autos  for  &  cen- 
tury after  the  affair  of  Dellon.  In  the  summer  of  1808, 
Dr.  Claudius  Buchanan  visited  that  city,  and  had  been 
unexpected!/  invited  bj  Joseph  a  Doloribus,  second  and 
most  active  inquisitor,  to  lodge  with  him  during  his  visit. 
Not  without  some  surprise,  Dr.  Buchanan  found  himself, 
heretic,  schismatic,  and  rebel  as  he  was,  politely  entertained 
by  so  dread  a  personage.  Regarding  his  English  visitor 
merely  as  a  literary  man,  or  professing  to  do  so.  Friar 
Joseph,  himself  well  educated,  seemed  to  enjoy  his  com- 
pany, and  was  unreservedly  communicative  on  every  sub- 
ject not  pertaining  to  his  own  vocation.  When  that 
subject  was  first  introdsjced  by  an  apparently  incidental 
question,  he  did  not  he  Itate  to  return  the  desired  infor- 
mation, telling  Dr.  Buehanan  that  the  establishment  was 
nearly  as  extensive  as  in  former  times.  In  the  library  of 
the  chief  inquisifr  he  saw  a  register  containing  the  names 
of  all  the  ofiicers,  who  still  were  numerous. 

On  the  second  evening  after  his  arrival,  the  doctor  was 
Burpnscd  to  see  his  host  come  from  his  apartment,  clothed 
in  black  robes  from  head  to  foot,  instead  of  white,  the 
usual  color  of  his  order  (Augustinian).  He  said  that  he 
was  going  to  sit  on  the  ribunal  of  the  holy  office,  and  it 
transpired  that,  so  far  from  his  "  august  ofiice  "  not  occupy- 
ing much  of  his  time,  he  had  to  <^it  there  three  or  four  days 


258 


APPENDIX. 


I 


'Jf 


HM 


•li 


every  week.  After  his  return,  in  the  evening,  the  doctor 
put  Dellon's  book  into  his  hand,  asking  him  if  he  had  ever 
seen  it.  He  had  never  seen  it  before,  and,  after  reading 
aloud  and  slowly,  ^'■Relation  de  V Inquisition  de  Goa" 
began  to  peruse  it  with  eagerness. 

While  Dr.  Buchanan  employed  himself  in  writing, 
Friar  Joseph  devoured  page  after  page ;  but  as  the  nar- 
rative proceeded,  betrayed  evident  symptoms  of  uneasi- 
ness. He  then  turned  to  the  middle,  looked  at  the  eid. 
skimmed  over  the  table  of  contents,  fixed  on  its  principal 
passages,  and  at  one  place  exclaimed,  in  his  broad  Italian 
accent,  "  Mendacium  !  mendacium !  "  The  doctor  re- 
quested him  to  mark  the  passages  that  were  untrue,  pro- 
posed to  discuss  them  afterwards,  and  said  he  had  other 
books  on  the  subject.  The  mention  of  other  books  star- 
tled him ;  he  looked  up  anxiously  at  some  books  on  the 
table,  and  then  gave  himself  up  to  the  perusal  of  Dellon's 
^'  Relation,"  until  bedtime.  Even  then,  he  asked  permis- 
sion to  take  it  to  his  chamber. 

The  doctor  had  fallen  asleep  under  the  roof  of  the 
inquisitor's  convent,  confident,  under  God,  in  the  protec- 
tion at  that  time  guaranteed  to  a  British  subject,  his  ser- 
vants sleeping  in  the  gallery  outside  the  chamber-door. 
About  midnight,  he  was  waked  by  loud  shrieks  and 
expressions  of  terror  from  some  one  in  the  gallery.  In 
the  first  moment  of  surprise,  he  concluded  it  must  be  the 
alguazils  of  the  holy  office  seizing  his  servants  to  carry 
them  to  the  Inquisition.  But,  on  going  out,  he  saw  the 
servants  standing  at  the  door,  and  the  person  who  had 
caused  the  alarm,  a  boy  of  about  fourteen,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, surrounded  by  some  of  the  priests,  who  had  come 
out  of  their  cells  on  hearing  the  noise.  The  boy  said  he 
had  seen  a  spectre ;  and  it  was  a  considerable  time  before 


APPENDIX. 


259 


the  agitations  of  his  body  and  voice  subsided.  Next 
morning  at  breakfast,  the  inquisitor  apologized  for  tlie 
disturbance,  and  said  the  boy's  alarm  proceeded  from  a 
phantasma  animi,  —  phantom  of  the  imagination. 

It  might  have  been  bo.  Phantoms  might  well  haunt 
such  a  place.  As  to  Dellon's  book,  the  inquisitor  acknowl- 
edged that  the  descriptions  were  just;  but  complained 
that  he  had  misji  dged  the  motives  of  the  inquisitors,  and 
written  uncharitably  of  Holy  Church.  Their  conversa- 
tion grew  earnest,  and  the  inquisitor  was  anxious  to  im- 
press his  visitor  with  the  idea  that  the  Inquisition  had 
undergone  a  change  in  some  respects,  and  that  its  terrors 
were  mitigated.  At  length  Dr.  Buchanan  plainly  re- 
quested to  see  the  Inquisition,  that  he  might  judge  for 
himself  as  to  the  humanity  shown  to  the  inmates, — accor- 
ding to  the  inquisitor,  —  and  gave,  as  a  reason  why  he 
should  be  satisfied,  his  interest  in  the  affairs  of  India,  on 
which  he  had  written,  and  his  purpose  to  write  on  them 
again,  in  which  case  he  could  scarcely  be  silent  concerning 
the  Inquisition.  The  countenance  of  his  host  fell;  but, 
after  some  further  observations,  he  reluctantly  promised 
to  comply.  Next  morning,  after  breakfast,  Joseph  a 
Doloribus  went  to  dress  for  the  holy  office,  and  soon 
returned  in  his  black  robes.  He  said  he  would  go  half  an 
hour  before  the  usual  time,  for  the  purpose  of  shovving 
him  the  Inquisition.  The  doctor  fancied  he  looked  more 
severe  than  usual,  and  that  his  attendants  were  not  as 
civil  as  before.  But  the  truth  was,  that  the  midnight 
scene  still  haunted  him.  They  had  proceeded  in  their 
palanquins  to  the  holy  house,  distant  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  convent,  and  the  inquisitor  said  as  they 
were  ascending  the  steps  of  the  great  entrance,  that  he 
hoped  the  doctor  would  be  satisfied  with  a  transient  vievr 


260 


APPENDIX. 


rti 


,'t! 


1 1 


( 'f 


1  -I 


of  the  Inquisition,  and  would  retire  when  he  should  desire 
him  to  do  so.  The  doctor  followed  with  tolerable  confi- 
dence, towards  the  great  hall  aforementioned,  where  thej 
were  met  by  several  well-dressed  persons,  familiars,  as  it 
afterwards  appeared,  who  bowed  very  low  to  the  inquisi- 
tor, and  looked  with  surprise  at  the  stranger.  Dr. 
Buchanan  paced  the  hall  slowly, and  in  thoughtful  silence; 
the  inquisitor  thoughtful  too,  silent  and  embarrassed.  A 
multitude  of  victims  seemed  to  haunt  the  place,  and  the 
doctor  could  not  refrain  from  breaking  silence.  "  Would 
not  the  Holy  Church  wish,  in  her  mercy,  to  have  those 
souls  back  again,  that  she  might  allow  them  a  little  further 
probation  ?  "  The  inquisitor  answered  nothing,  but  beck- 
oned liim  to  go  with  him.  to  a  door  at  one  end  of  the  hall. 
By  that  door  he  conducted  him  to  some  small  rooms,  anu 
thence,  to  the  spacious  apartments  of  the  chief  inquisitor. 
Having  surveyed  those,  he  brought  him  back  again  to  the 
great  hall,  and  seemed  anxions  that  the  troublesome  visi- 
tor should  depart ;  but  only  the  very  words  of  Dr.  B.  can 
adequately  describe  the  close  of  this  extraordinary  inter- 
view." 

"  Now,  father,"  said  I,  "  lead  me  to  the  dungeons  below: 
I  want  to  see  the  captives."  "  No,"  said  he, "  that  cannot 
be."  I  now  began  to  suspect  that  it  had  been  in  the  mind 
of  the  inquisitor,  from  the  beginning,  to  show  me  only  a 
certain  part  of  the  Inquisition,  in  the  hope  of  satisfying 
my  inquiries  in  a  general  way.  I  urged  him  with  earnest- 
ness ;  but  he  steadily  resisted,  and  seemed  offended,  or, 
rather,  agitated,  by  my  importunity.  I  intimated  to  him 
plainly,  that  the  only  way  to  do  justice  to  his  own  asser- 
tion and  arguments  regarding  the  present  state  of  the 
Inquisition,  was  to  show  me  the  prisons  and  the  captives. 
I  should  then  describe  only  what  I  saw ;  but  now  the 


APPENDIX. 


261 


should  desire 
Dlerable  confl- 
a,  where  they 
familiars,  as  it 
to  the  inquisi- 
itrang^r.     I>r» 
jghtful  silence; 
ibarrassed.    A 
place,  and  the 
jnce.    "Would 
',  to  have  those 
Q  a  little  further 
thing,  but  beck- 
end  of  the  hall, 
imall  rooms,  anu 
chief  inquisitor. 
;k  again  to  the 
jublesome  visi- 
isofDr.  B.  can 

[aordinary  inter- 

iungeons  below: 
he  '*  that  cannot 
Len  in  the  mind 
[show  me  only  a 
Ipe  of  satisfying 
[im  with  earnest- 
^ed  offended,  or, 
fitimated  to  him 
his  own  asser- 
Int  state  of  the 
Ind  the  captives, 
r;  but  now  the 


subject  was  left  in  awful  obscurity.  "  Lead  me  down,** 
said  I,  **  to  the  inner  building,  and  let  me  pass  through 
the  two  hundred  dungeons,  ten  feet  square,  described  by 
your  former  captives.  Let  me  count  ihe  number  of  your 
present  captives,  and  converse  with  them.  I  want  to  see 
if  there  be  any  subjects  of  the  British  government,  to  whom 
we  owe  protection.  I  want  to  ask  how  long  they  have 
been  thei'e,  how  long  it  is  since  they  have  seen  the  light 
of  the  sun,  and  whether  they  ever  expect  to  see  it  again. 
Show  me  the  chamber  of  torture,  and  declare  what  modes 
of  execution  or  punishment  are  now  practiced  inside  the 
walls  of  the  Inquisition,  in  lieu  of  the  public  Auto  de  Fe. 
If,  after  all  that  has  passed,  father,  you  resist  this  reason- 
able request,  I  should  be  justified  in  believing  that  you  are 
afraid  of  exposing  the  real  state  of  the  Inquisition  in 
India," 

To  these  observations  the  inquisitor  made  no  reply ; 
but  seemed  impatient  that  I  should  withdraw.  "My 
good  father,"  said  I ;  "I  am  about  to  take  my  leave  of 
you,  and  to  thank  you  for  your  hospitable  attentions ;  and 
I  wish  to  preserve  on  my  mind  a  favorable  sentiment  of 
your  kindness  and  candor.  You  cannot,  you  say,  show 
me  the  captives  and  the  dungeons ;  be  pleased,  then, 
merely  to  answer  tliis  question,  tor  I  shall  beiieve  your 
word :  how  many  prisoners  are  there  now  below  in  the 
cells  of  the  Inquisition  ?  "  He  replied,  "  That  is  a  ques- 
tion which  I  cannot  answer."  On  his  pronouncing  these 
words,  I  retired  hastily  towards  the  door,  and  wished  him 
farewell.  We  shook  hands  with  rs  much  cordiality  as  we 
could,  at  the  moment,  assume  ;  and  both  of  us,  I  believe, 
were  sorry  tliat  our  parting  took  place  with  a  clouded 
countenance." 

After  leaving  the  inquisitor.  Dr.  Buchanan,  feeling  as  if 


262 


APPENDIX. 


I    M 


IM 


he  could  not  refrain  from  endeavoring  to  get  another  and 
perhaps  a  nearer  view,  returned  to  avail  himself  of  the 
pretext  afforded  by  a  promise  from  the  chief  inquisitor,  of 
a  letter  to  one  of  the  British  iBsidents  at  Travancore,  in 
answer  to  one  which  he  had  brought  him  from  that  offi« 
cer.  The  inquisitors  he  expected  to  find  within,  in  the 
"  board  of  the  holy  office."  The  door-keepers  surveyed 
him  doubtfully,  but  allowed  him  to  pass.  He  entered  the 
grep.t  hail,  went  up  directly  to  the  lofty  crucifix  described 
by  D<;llon,  sat  down  on  a  foim,  wrote  some  notes,  ard 
then  desired  an  attendant  to  carry  in  his  name  to  the 
inqui^itoi.  As  he  was  walking  across  the  hall,  he  saw  a 
poor  woman  sitting  by  the  wall.  She  clasped  her  hands, 
and  looked  at  him  imploringly.  The  sight  chilled  his 
spirits ;  and  as  he  was  asking  the  attendants  the  cause  of 
her  apprehension,  —  for  she  was  awaiting  trial, — Joseph 
a  Doloribus  came,  in  answer  to  his  message,  and  was 
about  to  complain  of  the  intrusion,  when  he  parried  the 
complaint  by  asking  for  the  letter  from  the  chief  inquisi- 
tor. He  promised  to  send  it  after  him,  and  conducted  him 
to  the  door.  As  they  passed  the  poor  woman,  the  doctor 
pointed  to  her,  and  said  with  emphasis,  "  Behold,  father, 
another  victim  of  the  Holy  Inquisition."  The  other 
answered  nothing ;  they  bowed,  and  separated  without  a 
word. 

When  Dr.  Buchanan  published  his  *'  Christian  Re- 
searches in  Asia,"  in  the  year  1812,  the  Inquisition  still 
existed  at  Goa ;  but  the  establishment  of  constitutional 
government  in  Portugal,  put  an  end  to  it  throughout  the 
whole  Portuguese  dominions. 


APPENDIX    V. 


INQUISITION   AT   BIACERATA,   ITALY.      NABBATIVE   OF 
MB.  BOWEB.      HETH.  MAO.   THIBD   VOL. 

k 

I  never  pretended  4hat  it  was  for  the  sake  of  religion 
alone,  that  I  left  Italy.  On  the.  contrary,  I  have  often 
declared,  that,  had  I  never  belonged  to  the  Inquisition,  I 
should  have  gone  on,  as  most  Roman  Catholics  do,  without 
ever  questioning  the  truth  of  the  religion  I  was  brought  up 
in»  or  thinking  of  any  other.  But  the  unheard  of  cruelties 
of  that  hellish  tribunal  shocked  me  beyond  all  expression, 
and  rendered  me, — a<!i  I  was  obliged,  by  my  office  of  Coun- 
sellor, to  be  accessary  to  them, — one  of  the  most  unhappy 
men  upon  earth.  I  therefore  began  to  think  of  resigning 
my  office ;  but  as  I  had  on  several  occasions,  betrayed  some 
weakness  as  they  termed  it,  that  is,  some  compassion  and 
humanity,  and  had  upon  that  account  been  reprimanded 
by  the  Inquisitor,  I  was  well  apprized  that  my  resignation 
would  be  ascribed  by  him  to  my  disapproving  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  holy  tribunal.  And  indeed,  to  nothing 
else  could  it  be  ascribed,  as  a  place  at  that  board  was  a 
sure  way  to  preferment,  and  attended  with  great  priv- 
ileges, and  a  considerable  salary.  Being,  therefore,  sensi- 
ble how  dangerous  a  thing  it  would  be  tx>  give  the  least 
ground  for  any  suspicions  of  that  nature,  and  no  longer 
able  to  bear  the  sight  of  the  many  barbarities  practised 
almost  daily  within  those  walls,  nor  the  reproaches  of  my 
conscience  for  being  accessary  to  them,  I  determined,  after 


jiij 


■;''||:  ■] 

It       '        : 

^^H  1 

1 

B1 

u 

^K  \     :            J    ' 

K  !'!< 

■  1 

1    1 

1     >' 

1  ■ 

11 

li 

^Bl||i| 

i     '       l^*'!'' 

Hjfij 

1             f '  ' 

■'' 

'!  ■,-ii: 

f  tv 

aui.'^*^y 

U  1  tK 

■   m 

lit 

<M 

Kl  1  llil 

"  'nl 

it  II 

,; !-  wi 

'■    V      JB] 

'1  '    Wkn 

'  mut 

1-    i 

;     HR 

1  i 

1  ^S 

li  f  M 

,i  1 

;||  '■'  ■aiyi 

fi 

i'' li 

■■'■    , 

(  1 

■     ''j! 

1  1 

M     '  ■     '  '2  '' 

{!-'  '  4i' 

'i  -1 

m 

•     ■'!    ■' 

I'll 

i      '1^     ■      ^ 

''  i  111 

1    :K  •    { 

^i;;:|i 

A ;  1 '  j  1 

I  ,il  flii 

^MJLjlil 

11 

264 


APPENDIX. 


many  restless  nights,  and  much  deliberation,  to  wirhdraw 
at  the  same  time  from  the  Inquisition,  and  from  Ttnly. 
In  this  mind,  and  in  the  most  unhappy  and  tormei.ting 
situation  that  can  possibly  be  imagined,  I  continued  near 
a  twelve-month,  not  able  to  prevail  on  myself  tb  execute 
the  resolution  I  had  taken  on  account  of  the  many  dangers 
which  I  foresaw  would  inevitably  attend  it,  and  the  dread- 
ful consequences  of  my  failing  in  the  attempt.  But,  IxMng 
in  the,  mean  time  ordered  by  the  Inquisitor,  to  apprehend 
a  person  with  whom  I  had  lived  in  the  greatest  intimacy 
and  friendship,  the  part  I  was  obliged  to  act  on  that  occa- 
sion, left  so  deep  an  impression  on  my  mind  as  soon  prevailed 
over  all  my  fears,  and  made  me  determine  to  put  into  ex- 
ecution, at  all  events,  and  without  delay,  the  design  I  had 
formed.  Of  that  transaction  I  shall  give  a  particular 
account,  as  it  will  show  in  a  very  strong  light  the  nature 
and  proceedings  of  that  horrid  court. 

The  person  whom  the  Inquisitor  appointed  me  to  appre- 
hend was  Count  Vicenzo  della  Torre,  descended  from  an 
illustrious  family  in  Germany,  and  possessed  of  a  very 
considerable  estate  in  the  territoiy  of  Macerata.  He  was 
one  of  my  very  particular  friends,  and  had  lately  married 
the  daughter  of  Signior  Constantini,  of  Fermo,  a  lady  no 
less  famous  for  her  good  sense  than  her  beauty.  With 
her  family  too,  I  had  contracted  an  intimate  acquaintance, 
while  Pix)fessor  of  Rhetoric  in  Fermo,  and  had  often  at- 
tended the  Count  during  his  courtship,  from  Macerata  to 
Fermo,  but  fifteen  miles  distant.  I  therefore  lived  with 
both  in  the  greatest  friendship  and  intimacy;  and  the 
Count  was  the  only  person  that  lived  with  me,  after  I  was 
made  Counsellor  of  the  Inquisition,  upon  the  same  free 
footing  as  he  had  done  till  that  time.  My  other  friends 
had  grown  shy  of  me,  and  gave  me  plainly  to  understand 
that  they  no  longer  cared  for  my  company. 


APPENDIX. 


265 


As  this  unhappy  young  gentleman  was  one  day  walking 
with  another,  he  met  two  Capuchin  friars,  und  turning  to 
his  companion,  when  they  had  passed,  "  what  fools,"  said 
he,  "  are  these,  to  think  they  shall  gain  heaven  by  wer^- 
ing  sackclot?  and  going  barefoot  I  Fools  indeed,  if  1  be  j 
think  po.  t  there  is  any  merit  in  tormenting     iic'b 

self;  iu  well  live  as  we  do,  and  they  would 

get  to  h'  .e  as  soon."    Who  informed  against 

him,  whetlit'i-  the  iHars,  his  companion,  or  somebody  else, 
I  know  not ;  for  the  inquisitors  never  tell  the  names  of 
informers  to  the  Counsellors,  nor  the  names  of  the  wit- 
nesses, lest  they  should  except  against  them.  It  is  to  be 
observed,  that  all  who  hear  any  proposition  that  appears 
to  them  repugnant  to,  or  inconsistent  with  the  doctrines  of 
holy  mother  church,  are  bound  to  revaal  it  to  the  Inquisitor, 
and  also  to  discover  the  person  by  whom  it  was  uttered ; 
and,  in  this  affair  no  regard  is  to  be  had  to  any  ties,  how- 
ever sacred.  The  brother  being  bound  to  accuse  the  broth- 
er, the  father  the  son,  the  son  the  father,  the  wife  her  hus- 
band, and  the  husb:  .nd  his  wife ;  and  all  bound  on  pain  of 
eternal  damnatiou,  and  of  being  treated  as  accomplices  if 
they  do  not  denounce  in  a  certain  time ;  and  no  confessor 
can  absolve  a  person  who  has  heard  anything  said  in  jest 
or  in  earnest,  against  the  belief  or  practice  of  the  church, 
till  that  person  has  informed  the  Inquisitor  of  it,  and  given 
him  (ill  the  intelligence  he  can  concerninf;  the  person  by 
whom  it  was  spoken. 

Whoever  it  was  that  informed  against  my  unhappy  friend, 
whether  the  frin,rs,  his  companion,  or  somebody  else  who 
might  have  overheard  him,  the  Inquisitor  acquainted  the 
board  one  night,  (for  to  be  less  observed,  they  commonly 
meet,  out  of  Rome,  in  the  night)  that  the  above  mentioned 
propositions  had  been  advanced,  and  advanced  gravely,  at 

23 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


.!^ 


-^ 


11.25 


[Jlii   |22 

:  us  |2g 

MMu 

U    11.6 


Sciences 
Corporalion 


23  WIST  JMAIN  STIHT 

WnSTIR,N.Y.  14SM 

(7U)t72-4S03 


ill 


I 


.'tr 

5i 


h 


266 


APPENDIX. 


the  sight  of  two  poor  Capnchins ;  that  the  evidence  was  un- 
exceptionable ;  and  that  they  vrere  therefore  met  to  deter- 
mine the  qaalitj  of  the  proposition,  and  -proceed  against 
the  delinquent. 

There  are  in  each  Inquisition  twelve  Counsellors,  viz : 
four  Divines,  four  Canonists,  and  four  Gvifiaas.  It  is 
chiefly  the  province  of  the  divines  to  determine  the  quality 
of  the  proposition,  whether  it  is  heretical,  or  only  savors 
of  heresy;  whether  it  is  blasphemous  and  injurious  to  God 
and  His  saints  or  only  erroneous,  rash,  schismatical,  or 
offensive  to  pious  ears.  The  part  of  the  proposition, 
**  Fools !  if  they  think  there  is  any  merit  in  tormenting 
one's  self,"  was  judged  and  declared  heretical,  as  openly 
contradicting  the  doctrine  and  practice  of  holy  mother 
church  recommending  austerities  as  highly  meritorious. 
The  Inquisitor  observed,  on  this  occasion,  that  by  the  prop- 
osition, "  Fools  indeed"  &c,  were  taxing  with  folly,  not 
only  the  holy  fathers,  who  had  all  to  a  man  practised  great 
austerities,  but  St.  Paul  himself  as  the  Inquisitor  under- 
stood it,  adding  that  the  practice  of  whipping  one's  self,  so 
much  recommended  by  all  the  founders  of  religious  orders, 
was  borrowed  of  the  great  apostle  of  the  gentiles. 

The  proposition  being  declared  heretical,  it  was  unani- 
mously agreed  by  the  board  that  the  person  who  had 
uttered  it  should  be  apprehended,  and  proceeded  against 
agreeably  to  the  laws  of  the  Inquisition.  And  now  the 
person  was  named;  for,  till  it  is  determined  whether  the 
accused  person  should  or  should  not  be  apprehended,  his 
name  is  kept  concealed  from  the  counsellors,  lest  they  should 
be  biased,  says  the  directory,  in  his  favor,  or  against  him. 
For,  in  many  instances,  they  keep  up  an  appearance  of 
justice  and  equity,  at  the  same  time  that,  in  truth,  they  act 
in  direct  opposition  to  all  the  known  laws  of  justice  and 


APPENDIX. 


267 


ence  was  un- 
met to  deter- 
Kseed  against 

inseUors,^: 
rilians.    Xt  is 
ine  the  quality 
)r  only  savors 
jurious  to  God 
uhismatical,  or 
le  proposition, 
in  tormenting 
tical,  as  openly 
f  holy  mother 
dy  meritorious, 
hatbytheprop- 

with  folly,  not 
I  practised  great 

oquisitor  under- 
ng  one's  self,  so 
religious  orders, 
rentiles. 

il,  it  was  unam- 
jerson  who  had 
►ceeded  agwnst 
And  now  the 
led  whether  the 
Lpprehended,  his 
[lest  they  «hould 

or  against  him. 

appearance  oi 

I  truth,  they  act 

rs  of  justice  and 


equity.  No  words  can  express  the  concern  and  astonish- 
ment it  gave  me  to  hear,  on  such  an  occasion,  the  name  of 
a  firiend  for  whom  I  had  the  greatest  esteem  and  regard. 
The  Inquisitor  was  apprised  of  it ;  and  to  give  me  an 
opportunity  of  practising  what  he  had  so  often  recom- 
mended to  me,  viz.  confiuering  nature  with  the  assistance 
of  grace,  he  appointed  me  to  apprehend  the  criminal,  as 
he  styled  him,  and  to  lodge  him  safe,  before  daylight,  in 
the  prison  of  the  holy  inquisition.  I  offered  to  excuse  my- 
self, but  with  the  greatest  submission,  from  being  in  any 
way  concerned  in  the  execution  of  that  order ;  an  order,  I 
said,  which  I  entirely  approved  of,  but  only  wished  it 
might  be  put  in  execution  by  some  other  person ;  for  your 
lordship  knows,  I  said,  the  connection.  But  the  Inquisitor 
shocked  at  the  word,  said  with  a  stem  look  and  angry  tone 
of  voice,  "What!  talk  of  connections  where  the  faith  is 
concerned  ?  There  is  your  guard,"  (pointing  to  the  Sbirri 
or  bali£&  in  waiting)  "  let  the  criminal  be  secured  in  St. 
Luke's  cell,"  (one  of  the  worst,)  "before  three  in  the 
morning."  He  then  withdrew,  and  as  he  passed  me  said, 
"  Thus,  nature  is  conquered."  I  had  betrayed  some  weak* 
ness  or  sense  of  humanity,  not  long  before,  in  fainting 
away  while  I  attended  the  torture  of  one  who  was  racked 
with  the  utmost  barbarity,  and  I  had  on  that  occasion  been 
reprimanded  by  the  Inquisitor  for  suffering  nature  to  get 
the  better  of  grace ;  it  being  an  inexcusable  weakness,  as 
he  observed,  to  be  in  any  degree  affected  with  the  suffer- 
ing of  the  body,  however  great,  when  afBicted,  as  they 
ever  are  in  the  Holy  Inquisition,  for  the  good  of  the  souL 
And  it  was,  I  presume,  to  make  trial  of  the  effect  of  that 
reprimand,  that  the  execution  of  this  cruel  order  was  com- 
mitted to  me.  As  I  could  by  no  possible  means  decline 
it,  I  summoned  all  my  resolution,  after  passing  an  hour  by 


26a 


APPENDIX. 


-,  « 


I'l 


;!'; 


myself,  I  may  say  in  the  agonies  of  death,  and  set  out  a 
little  after  two  in  the  morning  for  my  unhappy  friend's 
house,  attended  by  a  notary  of  the  Inquisition,  and  six 
armed  Sbirri.  We  arrived  at  the  house  by  di£Perent  ways 
and  knocking  at  the  door,  a  maid-servant  looked  out  of 
the  window,  and  asked  who  knocked.  "  The  Holy  Inqut- . 
sition,'*  was  the  answer,  and  at  the  same  time  she  was 
ordered  to  awake  nobody,  but  to  come  down  directly  and 
open  the  door,  on  pain  of  excommunication.  At  these 
words,  the  servant  hastened  down,  half  naked  as  ^e  was, 
and  having  with  much  ado^  in  her  great  fright,  opened  the 
door,  she  conducted  us  as  she  was  ordered  to  her  master's 
chamber.  She  often  looked  very  earnestly  at  me,  as  she 
knew  me,  and  showed  a  great  desire  to  speak  with  me ; 
but  of  her  I  durst  take  no  kind  of  notice.  I  entered  the 
bed-chamber  with  the  notary,  followed  by  the  Sbirri,  when 
the  lady  awakening  at  the  noise,  and  seeing  the  bed  sur- 
rounded by  armed  men,  screamed  out  aloud  and  continued 
screaming  as  out  of  her  senses,  till  one  of  the  Sbirri,  pro- 
voked at  the  noise  gave  her  a  blow  on  the  forehead  that 
made  the  blood  flow,  and  she  swooned  away.  I  rebuked 
the  fellow  severely,  and  ordered  him  to  be  whipped  as 
soon  as  I  returned  to  the  Inquisition. 

Jn  the  mean  time,  the  husband  awakening,  and  seoing 
me  with  my  attendants,  cried  out,  in  the  utmost  sux'prise, 
"Mr,  Bower/'*  He  said  no  more,  nor  could  I  for  some 
time  utter  a  smgle  word ;  and  it  was  with  much  ado  that 
in  the  end  I  so  far  mastered  my  grief  as  to  be  able  to 
let  my  unfortunate  friend  know  that  he  was  a  prisoner  of 
the  Holy  Inquisition.  **  Of  the  Holy  Inquisition ! "  he 
replied.  "  Alas  I  what  have  I  done  ?  My  dear  friend,  be 
my  friend  now."  He  said  many  affecting  things ;  but  as 
I  knew  it  was  not  in  my  power  to  befiriei^  him^  I  had  not 


APPENDIX. 


269 


the  courage  to  look  him  in  the  face,  but  turning  my  back 
to  him,  withdrew,  while  he  dressed,  to  a  corner  of  the 
room,  to  give  vent  to  my  grief.  The  notary  stood  by, 
quite  unaffected.  Indeed,  to  be  void  of  all  humanity,  to 
be  able  to  behold  one's  fellow-creatures  groaning  under 
,  the  most  exquisite  torments  cruelty  can  invent,  without 
being  in  the  least  affected  with  their  sufferings,  is  one  of 
the  chief  qualifications  of  an  inquisitor,  and  what  all  who 
belong  to  the  Inquisition  must  strive  to  attain  to.  It  often 
happens,  at  that  infernal  tribunal,  that  while  the  unhappy, 
and  probably  innocent,  person  is  crying  out  in  their  pres- 
ence on  the  rack,  and  begging  by  all  that  is  sacred  for 
one  moment's  relief,  in  a  manner  one  would  think  no 
human  heart  could  withstand,  it  often  happens,  I  say,  that 
the  inquisitor  and  the  rest  of  his  infamous  crew,  quite  un- 
affected with  his  complaints,  and  deaf  to  his  groans,  to  his 
tears  and  entreaties,  are  entertaining  on^  another  with  the 
news  of  the  town ;  nay,  so*netimes  they  even  insult,  with 
unheard  of  barbarity,  the  unhappy  wretches  in  the  height 
of  their  torment. 

To  return  to  my  unhappy  prisoner.  He  was  no  sooner 
dressed  than  I  ordered  the  Bargello,  or  head  of  the  Sbirri, 
to  tie  his  hands  with  a  cord  behind  his  back,  as  is  prac- 
tised on  such  occasions  without  distinction  of  persons;  no 
more  regard  being  paid  to  men  of  the  first  rank,  when 
charged  with  heresy,  than  to  the  meanest  offender.  Her- 
esy dissolves  all  friendship;  so  that  I  durst  no  longer 
look  upon  the  man  with  whom  I  had  lived  in  the  greatest 
friendship  and  intimacy  as  my  friend,  or  show  him,  on 
that  account,  the  least  regard  or  indulgence. 

As  we  left  the  chamber,  the  countess,  who  had  been 
conveyed  out  of  the  room,  met  us,  and  screaming  out  in 
the  most  pitiful  manner  upon  seeing  her  husband  with  his 

28* 


:>* 


270 


APPENDIX. 


hands  tied  behind  his  back  like  a  thief  or  robber,  flew  to 
embrace  him,  and  hanging  on  his  neck,  begged,  with  a 
flood  of  tears,  we  would  be  so  merciful  as  to  put  an  end 
to  her  life,  that  she  might  have  the  satisfaction — the  only 
satisfaction  she  wished  for  in  this  world,  of  dying  in  the 
bosom  of  the  man  from  whom  she  had  vowed  never  to 
part  The  count,  overwhelmed  with  grief^  did  not  utter 
a  sin^e  word.  I  could  not  find  it  in  my  heart,  nor  was  I 
in  a  condition  to  interpose ;  and  indeed  a  scene  of  greater 
distress  was  never  beheld  by  human  eyes.  However,  I 
gave  a  signal  to  the  notary  to  part  them,  which  he  did 
accordingly,  quite  unconcerned ;  but  the  countess  fell  into 
a  swoon,  and  the  count  was  meantime  carried  down  stairs, 
and  out  of  the  house,  amid  the  loud  lamentations  and 
sighs  of  his  servants,  on  all  sides,  for  he  was  a  man  re- 
markable for  the  sweetness  of  his  temper,  and  his  kindness 
to  all  around  him. 

Bemg  arrived  at  the  Inquisition,  I  consigned  my  pris- 
oner into  the  hands  of  a  gaoler,  a  lay  brother  of  St.  Dom- 
inic, who  shut  him  up  in  the  dungeon  above-mentioned, 
and  delivered  the  key  to  me.  I  lay  that  night  at  the  pal- 
ace of  the  Inquisition,  where  every  counsellor  has  fkroom, 
and  returned  next  morning  the  key  to  the  inquisitfnr,  teU* 
ing  him  that  his  order  had  been  punctually  complied  with. 
The  inquisitor  had  been  already  informed  of  my  conduct 
by  the  notary,  and  therefore,  upon  my  delivering  the  key 
to  him,  he  said,  **  You  have  acted  like  one  who  is  at  letat 
desirous  to  overcome,  with  the  assistance  of  grace,  the  in- 
clinations of  nature ; "  that  is,  like  one  who  is  desirous,  by 
the  assistance  of  grace,  to  metamorphose  himself  from  ft 
human  creature  into  a  brute  or  a  deviL 

In  the  Inquisition,  every  prisoner  is  kept  the  first  week 
of  bis  >ny>risonment  in  a  dark  narrow  dnngecm*  so  low 


APPENDIX. 


!J71 


that  he  cannot  stand  upright  in  it,  irithont  seeing  anybody 
but  the  gaoler,  who  brings  him,  every  other  day^  his  poi> 
tion  of  bread  and  water,  the  only  food  allowed  him.  Thia 
is  done,  they  say,  to  tame  him,  and  render  him,  thus  weak- 
ened, more  sensible  of  the  torture,  and  less  able  to  endure 
it.  At  the  end  of  the  week,  he  is  brought  in  the  night 
before  the  board  to  be  examined ;  and  on  that  occasion 
my  poor  friend  appeared  so  altered,  in  a  week's  tirne^ 
that,  had  it  not  been  for  his  dress,  I  should  not  have  known 
him.  And  indeed  no  wonder ;  a  change  of  condition  so 
sudden  and  unexpected;  the  unworthy  and  barbaroua 
treatment  he  had  already  met  wiih ;  the  apprehension  of 
what  he  might  and  probably  should  suffer ;  and  perhaps, 
more  than  anything  else,  the  distressed  and  forlorn  con- 
dition of  his  once  happy  wife,  whom  he  tenderly  loved, 
whose  company  he  had  enjoyed  only  six  months,  could  be 
attended  with  no  other  effect. 

Being  asked,  according  to  custom,  whether  he  had  any 
enemies,  and  desired  to  name  them,  he  answered,  that  he 
bore  enmity  to  no  man,  and  he  hoped  no  man  bore  enmity 
to  him.  For,  as  in  the  Inquisition  the  person  accused  is 
not  told  of  the  charge  brought  against  bim,  nor  of  the 
person  by  whom  it  is  brought)  the  inquisitor  asks  him  if 
he  has  any  enemies,  and  desires  him  to  name  th^n.  If 
he  names  the  informer,  all  further  proceedings  are  stopped 
until  the  informer  is  examined  anew;  and  if  t'  i  informa- 
tion is  found  to  proceed  from  ill-will,  and  no  collateral 
proof  can  be  produced,  the  prisoner  is  discharged.  Of 
this  piece  of  justice  they  frequently  boast,  at  the  same 
time  that  they  admit,  both  as  informers  and  witnesses, 
persons  of  the  most  infamous  characters,  and  such  as  are 
excluded  by  all  other  courts.  In  the  next  place,  the 
priscmw  is  ordered  to  swear  that  he  will  dedare  the  truth. 


1 


272 


APPENDIX. 


t    U;-' 


1  '[■  i- 


and  conceal  nothing  from  the  holy  tribanal,  concerning 
himaelf  or  others,  that  he  knows  and  the  holy  tribunal 
desires  to  know.  He  is  then  interrogated  for  what  crime 
he  has  been  apprehended  and  imprisoned  by  the  Holy 
Court  of  the  Inquisition,  of  all  courts  the  most  equitable, 
the  most  cautious,  the  most  merciftil.  To  Uiat  interrogap 
tory  the  count  answered,  with  a  faint  and  trenibling  voice, 
that  he  was  not  conscious  to  himself  of  any  crime,  cogni- 
zable by  the  Holy  Court,  nor  indeed  by  any  other ;  that 
he  believed  and  ever  had  believed  whatever  holy  mother 
church  believed  or  required  him  to  believe.  He  had,  it 
seems  quite  forgotten  what  he  had  unthinkingly  said  at  the 
sight  of  the  two  friars.  The  inquisitor,  therefore,  finding 
that  he  did  not  remember  or  would  not  own  his  crime, 
after  many  deceitful  interrogatories,  and  promises  which 
he  never  intended  to  fulfil,  ordered  him  back  to  his  dun- 
geon, and  allowing  him  another  week,  as  is  customary  in 
such  cases,  to  recollect  himself,  told  him  that  if  he  could 
not  in  that  time  prevail  upon  hunself  to  declare  the  truth, 
agreeably  to  his  oath,  means  would  be  found  of  forcing 
it  from  him ;  and  he  must  expect  no  mercy. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  he  was  brought  again  before  the 
infernal  tribunal ;  and  being  asked  the  same  questions,  re- 
turned the  same  answers,  adding,  that  if  he  had  done  or 
said  anything  amiss,  unwittingly  or  ignorantly,  he  was 
ready  to  own  it,  provided  the  least  hint  of  it  were  given 
him  by  any  there  present,  which  he  entreated  them  most 
earnestly  to  do.  He  often  looked  at  me,  and  seemed  to 
expect— which  gave  me  such  concern  as  no  words  can 
express— that  I  should  say  something  in  his  favor.  But 
I  was  not  allowed  to  speak  on  this  occasion,  nor  were 
any  of  the  counsellors ;  and  had  I  been  allowed  to  speak, 
I  durst  not  have  said  anything  in  his  favor;  the  advocate 


APPENDIX. 


273 


i],  concerning 
holy  tribunal 
)r  what  crime 
hy  the  Holy 
lost  equitable, 
hat  interrogar 
enibling  ▼oice, 
J  crime,  cogni- 
ny  other ;  that 
sr  holy  mother 
B.    He  had,  it 
nglysaidatthe 
lerefore,  finding 
own  bis  crime, 
promises  which 
ack  to  bis  dun- 
jis  customary  in 
Lhat  if  be  could 
edare  the  truth, 
found  of  forcing 

again  before  the 
le  questions,  re- 
|he  bad  done  or 
iorantly,be  was 
|of  it  were  given 
eatedthem  most 
p,  and  seemed  to 
no  worde  can 
his  favor.    But 
.»ion,  nor  were 
lowed  to  speak, 
[or;  the  advocate 


appointed  by  the  Inquisition,  and  commonly  styled,  ^  The 
Devil's  Advocate,"  being  the  only  person  that  is  suffered 
to  speak  for  the  prisoner.  The  advocate  belongs  to  the 
Inquisition,  receives  a  salary  from  the  Inquiaitioo,  and  is 
bound  by  an  oath  to  abandon  the  defence  of  the  prisoner, 
if  he  undertakes  it,  or  not  to  undertake  it,  if  he  finds  it 
cannot  be  defended  agreeably  to  the  laws  of  the  Holy  In- 
quisition; so  that  the  whole  is  mere  sham  and  impodtioo. 
I  have  heard  this  advocate,  on  other  occasions,  allege 
Btmiething  in  favor  of  the  person  accused;  bnt  on  this 
occasion  he  dedar^  that  he  had  nothii^  tooflfiar  in  deftinoe 
of  the  crimina]^ 

In  the  Inquisition,  the  person  accused  is  always  sup- 
posed guilty,  unless  he  has  named  the  accuser  among  hit 
enemies.  And  he  is  put  to  the  torture  if  he  does  not 
plead  guilty,  and  own  the  crime  that  is  laid  to  his  charge^ 
without  being  so  much  as  told  what  it  is ;  whereas,  in  aU 
other  courts,  where  tortures  are  used,  the  charge  is  de- 
dared  to  the  party  accused  before  he  is  tortured ;  nor  are 
they  ever  inflicted  without  a  credible  evidence  of  his  guilt. 
But  in  the  Inquisition,  a  man  is  frequently  tortured  upon 
the  deposition  of  a  person  whose  evidence  would  be  ad- 
mitted in  no  other  court,  and  in  all  cases  without  hearing 
the  diarge.  As  my  unfortunate  fHend  continued  to  main- 
tam  his  innocence,  not  reeolleoting  what  he  had  said,  he 
was,  agreeably  to  the  laws  of  the  Inquisitwn,  put  to  the 
torture.  He  had  scarcely  borne  it  twenty  minutes,  erying 
out  the  whole  time, "  Jesus  Maria  I "  when  his  voice  failed 
him  at  <mee,  and  he  fainted  away^  He  was  then  sup* 
ported,  as  he  hung  by  his  arms,  by  two  of  the  Slwrri, 
whose  province  it  is  to  manage  the  torture,  till  he  returned 
to  himself.  He  still  continued  to  declare  that  he  could 
not  reooUeot  his  having  wtSA  or  dona  anything  contrary  to 


'J5 


11 


\': 


',  I 


li 


i 


274 


APPENDIX. 


the  Catholic  faith,  and  earnestly  begged  they  would  let 
him  know  with  what  he  was  charged,  being  ready  to  own 
it  if  it  was  true. 

The  Inquisitor  was  then  so  gracious  as  to  put  him  in 
mind  of  what  he  had  said  on  seeing  the  two  Capuchins. 
The  reason  why  they  so  long  conceal  from  the  party 
accused  the  crime  he  is  charged  with,  is,  that  if  he  should 
be  conscious  to  himself  of  his  haying  ever  said  or  done 
anything  contrary  to  the  faith,  which  he  is  not  charged 
with,  he  may  discover  that  too,  imagining  it  to  be  the  very 
crime  he  is  accused  of.  AAer  a  short  pause,  the  poor 
gentleman  owned  that  he  had  said  something  to  that  pur- 
pose ;  but,  as  he  had  said  it  with  no  evil  intention,  he  had 
never  more  thought  of  it,  from  that  time  to  the  present 
He  added,  but  with  a  voi)3e  so  faint,  as  scarce  could  be 
heard,  that  for  his  rashness  he  was  willing  to  undergo  what 
punishment  soever  the  holy  tribunal  should  think  fit  to 
impose  on  him ;  and  he  again  fainted  away.  Being  eased 
for  a  while  of  his  torment,  and  returned  to  himself,  he  was 
interrogated  by  the  promoter  fiscal  (whose  business  it  is 
to  accuse  and  to  prosecute,  as  neither  the  informer  nor 
the  witnesses  are  ever  to  appear,)  concerning  his  intention. 
For  in  the  Inquisition,  it  is  not  enough  for  the  party 
accused  to  confess  the  fact,  he  must  declare  whether  his 
intention  was  heretical  or  not;  and  many,  to  redeem 
themselves  from  the  torments  they  can  no  longer  endure, 
own  their  intention  was  heretical,  thour^h  it  really  was  not 
My  poor  friend  often  told  us,  he  was  ready  to  say  what- 
ever he  pleased,  but  as  he  never  directly  acknowledged  his 
intention  to  have  been  heretical,  as  is  required  by  the 
rules  of  the  court,  he  was  kept  on  the  torture  still,  quite 
overcome  with  the  violence  of  the  anguish,  he  was  ready 
to  expire.    Being  taken  down,  he  was  carried  quite  sense- 


APPENDIX. 


275 


less,  back  to  his  dungeon,  and  there,  on  the  thutl  day, 
death  put  an  end  to  his  sufferings.  The  Inquisitor  wrote 
a  note  to  his  widow,  to  desire  her  to  pray  for  the  soul  of 
her  late  husband,  and  warn  her  not  to  complain  of  the 
holy  Inquisition,  as  capable  of  any  injustice  or  cruelty. 
The  estate  was  confiscated  to  the  Inquisition,  and  a  small 
jointure  allowed  out  of  it  to  the  widow.  As  they  had 
only  been  married  six  months,  and  some  part  of  the  for- 
tune was  not  yet  paid,  the  inquisitor  sent  an  order  to  the 
Constantini  family,  at  Femo,  to  pay  the  holy  office,  and 
without  delay,  what  they  owed  to  the  late  Count  Delia 
Torre.  The  effects  of  heretics  are  all  ipso  facto  confis- 
cated to  the  Inquisition  from  the  very  day,  not  of  their 
conviction,  but  of  their  crime,  so  that  all  donations  made 
after  that  time  are  void ;  and  whatever  they  may  have 
given,  is  claimed  by  the  Inquisition,  into  whatsoever  hands 
it  may  have  passed;  even  the  fortunes  they  have  given  to 
their  daughters  in  marriage,  have  been  declared  to  belong 
to,  and  are  claimed  by  the  Inquisition;  nor  can  it  be 
doubted,  that  the  desire  of  those  confiscations  is  one  great 
cause  of  the  injustice  and  cruelty  of  tliat  court. 

The  death  of  the  unhappy  Count  Delia  Torre  was  soon 
publicly  known ;  but  no  man  cared  to  speak  of  it,  not  even 
his  nearest  relations,  nor  so  much  as  to  mention  his  name, 
lest  anything  should  inadvertently  escapje  tbem  that 
might  be  construed  into  a  disapprobation  of  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  most  holy  tribunal ;  so  great  is  the  awe  all 
men  live  in  of  that  jealous  and  merciless  court. 

The  deep  impression  that  the  death  of  my  unhappy 
friend,  the  barbarous  and  inhuman  treatment  he  had  met 
with,  and  the  part  I  had  been  obliged  to  act  in  so  affecting 
a  tragedy,  made  on  my  mind,  got  at  once  the  better  of  my 
fears,  so  that,  forgetting  in  a  manner  the  dangers  I  had 


'"  V 


» 


276 


APPumiz. 


till  then  ao  much  apprehended,  I  resolved,  without  ftirther 
delay  to  put  in  execution  the  design  I  had  formed,  of  noit- 
ting  the  Inquisition,  and  bidding  forever  adieu  to  Italy. 
To  execute  that  design  with  some  safety,  I  proposed  to 
beg  leave  to  visit  the  Virgin  of  Loretto,bnt  thirteen  miles 
distant,  and  to  pass  a  week  there ;  but  in  the  mean  time, 
to  make  the  best  of  my  way  out  of  the  reach  of  the  Inqui- 
sition. 

Havini^  therefore,  after  many  conflicts  with  myself, 
asked  leave  to  visit  the  neighboring  sanctuary,  and 
obtained  it,  I  set  out  on  horseback  the  very  next  morn- 
ing, leaving,  as  I  proposed  to  keep  the  horse,  his  full  value 
with  the  owner.  I  took  the  road  to  Loretto,  but  turned 
out  of  it  a  short  distance  from  Becanati,  after  a  most  vio- 
lent struggle  with  myself,  the  attempt  appearing  to  me  at 
that  juncture,  quite  desperate  and  impracticable ;  and  the 
dreadful  doom  reserved  for  me  should  I  miscarry,  pre- 
sented itsdf  to  my  mind  in  the  strongest  light  But  the 
reflection  that  I  had  it  in  my  power  to  avoid  being  taken 
alive,  and  a  persuasion  that  a  man  in  my  situation  might 
lawfully  avoid  it,  when  every  other  means  failed  him,  at 
the  expense  of  his  life,  revived  my  staggered  resolution ; 
and  all  my  fears  ceasing  at  once,  I  steered  my  course, 
leaving  Loretto  behind  me,  to  Bocca  Contrada,to  Fosson- 
brone,  to  Calvi  in  the  dukedom  of  Urbino,  and  from 
thence  through  the  Bomagna  into  Bolognese,  keeping  the 
by-roads,  and  at  a  good  distance  from  the  cities  through 
which  the  high  road  passed. 

Thus  I  advanced  very  slowly,  travelling  in  very  bad 
roads,  and  often  in  places  where  there  was  no  road  at  all, 
to  avoid,  not  only  the  cities,  and  towns,  but  also  the  vil- 
lages. In  the  mean  tune  I  seld<«i  had  any  other  support 
but  some  coarse  provisions,  and  a  very  small  quantity 


▲PFIHDIZ. 


277 


eren,  of  them,  that  the  poor  shepherda,  the  eoantiTmen 
or  wood  oleaven  I  met  in  those  unfrequented  by-placet, 
could  spare  me.  My  horse  fared  not  much  better  than 
myself;  but,  in  choosing  my  sleeping-plaoe  I  consulted  his 
convenience  as  much  as  my  own,  passing  the  night  where 
I  found  most  shelter  for  myself,  and  most  graM  for  him. 
In  Italy  there  are  very  few  solimry  farm-houses  or  cotta- 
ges, the  country  people  all  living  together  in  villages;  and 
I  thought  it  fiur  safer  to  lie  where  I  could  be  in  any  way 
sheltered,  than  to  vMiture  into  any  of  them.  Thus  I 
spent  seventeen  days  before  I  got  out  of  the  ecclesiastical 
state ;  and  I  very  narrowly  escaped  being  taken  or  mur- 
dered, on  the  very  borders  of  that  state ;  it  happened 
thus. 

I  had  passed  two  whole  days  without  any  kind  of  sub* 
eistence  whatever,  meeting  with  no  one  in  the  by-roads 
that  could  supply  me  with  any,  and  fearing  to  come  near 
any  house,  as  I  was  not  far  from  the  borders  of  the  domin- 
ions of  the  Pope.  I  thought  I  should  be  able  to  hold  out 
till  I  got  into  the  Modanese,  where  I  believed  I  should  be 
in  less  danger  than  while  I  rraoained  in  the  papal  domin- 
i<»s.  But  finding  myself,  about  noon  of  the  third  day, 
extremely  weak  and  ready  to  faint  away,  I  came  into  the 
high  road  that  leads  from  Bologna  to  I^loreaoe,  a  few 
miles  distant  from  the  former  city,  and  alighted  at  a  post 
house,  that  stood  quite  by  itself.  Blaving  asked  the 
womm  of  the  house  whether  she  had  any  victuals,  and 
b^ng  told  that  she  had,  I  w€Bt  to  open  the  door  of  the 
only  room  in  the  house,  (that  being  a  place  where  gentle- 
men only  stop  to  dumge  horses,)  and  saw  to  my  great 
surprise,  a  placard  pasted  oa  it,  with  a  minute  description 
of  my  whole  person,  and  a  {n^mise  of  a  reward  of  800 
crowns  (about  £200  English  money)  for  delivering  me  up 

24 


278 


APPENDIX. 


alive  to  the  Inquisition,  being  a  fugitive  from  that  holy 
tribunal,  and  of  600  crowns  for  my  head.  By  the  same 
placard,  all  persons  were  forbidden,  on  pain  of  the  greater 
excommunication,  to  receive  or  harbor,  entertain,  conceal, 
or  screen  me,  or  to  be  in  any  way  aiding,  or  assisting  me 
to  make  my  escape.  This  greatly  alarmed  me,  as  the 
reader  may  well  imagine ;  but  I  was  still  more  frightened, 
when  entering  the  room,  I  saw  two  fellows  drinking  there, 
who,  fixing  their  eyes  on  me  as  soon  as  I  went  in,  contin- 
ued looking  at  me  very  steadfastly.  I  strove,  by  wiping 
my  face  and  blowing  my  nose,  and  by  looking  out  of  the 
window,  to  prevent  their  having  a  full  view  of  my  features. 
But,  one  of  them  saying,  "  The  gentleman  seems  afraid  to 
be  seen,"  I  put  up  my  handkerchief,  and  turning  to  the 
fellow,  said  boldly,  ^'What  do  you  mean  you  rascal? 
Look  at  me ;  am  I  afraid  to  be  seen  ?  "  He  said  noth- 
ing, but  looking  again  steadfastly  at  me,  and  nodding  his 
head,  went  out,  and  his  companion  inmiediately  followed 
him.  I  watched  them,  and  seeing  them,  with  two  or  three 
more,  in  dose  conference,  and  no  doubt  consulting  whether 
they  should  apprehend  me  or  not,  I  walked  that  moment 
into  the  stable,  mounted  my  horse  unobserved  by  them, 
and  while  they  were  deliberating  in  an  orchard  behind 
the  house,  rode  off  at  full  speed,  and  in  a  few  hours  got 
into  the  Modanese,  where  I  refreshed  both  with  food  and 
rest,  as  I  was  there  in  no  immediate  danger,  my  horse  and 
myself.  I  was  indeed  surprised  to  find  that  those  fellows 
did  not  pursue  me,  nor  can  I  in  any  other  way  account  for 
it,  but  by  supposing,  what  is  not  improbable,  that,  as  they 
were  strangers  as  well  as  myself,  and  had  all  the  appear- 
ance of  banditti  or  ruffians  flying  out  of  the  dominions  of 
the  Pope,  the  woman  of  the  house  did  not  care  io  trust 
them  with  her  horses.    From  the  Modanese  I  continued 


APPENDIX. 


279 


my  journey,  more  leisurely  through  the  Parmesan,  the 
Milanese,  and  part  of  the  Venetian  territory,  to  Chiavennay 
subject  to  the  Grisons,  who  abhor  the  very  name  of  the 
Inquisition,  and  are  ever  ready  to  receive  and  protect  all 
who,  flying  from  it,  take  refuge,  as  many  Italians  do,  in 
their  dominions.  Still  I  carefully  concealed  who  I  was, 
and  whence  I  came,  for,  though  no  Inquisition  prevails 
among  the  Swiss,  yet  the  Pope's  nuncio  who  resides  at 
Lucerne,  (a  popish  canton  through  which  I  was  to  pass,) 
might  have  persuaded  the  magistrate  to  stop  Ae  as  an 
apostate  and  deserter  from  the  order. 

Having  rested  a  few  days  at  Chiavenna,  I  rc^'i?  uied  my 
journey  quite  refreshed,  continuing  it  through  the  country 
of  the  Grisons,  and  the  two  small  cantons  of  Ury  and 
Underwald,  to  the  canton  of  Lucerne.  There  I  missed  my 
way,  as  I  was  quite  unacquainted  with  the  country,  and 
discovering  a  city  at  a  distance,  was  advancing  to  it,  but 
slowly,  as  I  knew  not  where  I  was,  when  a  countryman 
whom  I  met,  informed  me  that  the  city  before  me  was 
Lucerne.  Upon  that  intelligence,  I  turned  out  of  the  road 
as  soon  as  the  countryman  was  out  of  sight,  and  that  night 
I  passed  with  a  good  natured  shepherd  in  his  cottage,  who 
supplied  me  with  sheep's  milk,  and  my  horse  with  plenty 
of  grass.  I  set  out  early  next  morning,  making  my  way 
westward,  as  I  knew  that  Berne  lay  west  of  Lucerne.  But, 
after  a  few  miles,  the  country  proved  very  mountainous, 
and  having  travelled  the  whole  day  over  mountains  I  was 
overtaken  among  them  by  night.  As  I  was  looking  out 
for  a  place  where  I  might  shelter  myself  during  the  night, 
against  the  snow  and  rain,  (for  it  both  snowed  and  rained,) 
I  perceived  a  light  at  a  distance,  and  making  towards  it, 
I  got  into  a  kind  of  foot-path,  but  so  narrow  and  rugged 
that  I  was  obliged  to  lead  my  horse,  and  feel  my  way  with 


m 


1 1 : 


1^ 


i'f: 


!il 


I 

if 


f,    ""■: 

in 


fi 

1:1 


II 


280 


APPENDIX. 


one  foot,  (having  no  light  to  direct  me,)  before  I  durst 
move  the  other.  Thus,  with  much  difficulty  I  reached  the 
place  where  the  light  was,  a  poor  little  cottage,  and  knock- 
ing at  the  door,  was  asked  hj  a  man  within  who  I  was, 
and  what  I  wanted  ?  I  answered  that  I  was  a  stranger 
and  had  lost  my  way.  **  Lost  your  way !  **  exclaimed  the 
man,  "  There  is  no  way  here  to  lose."  I  then  asked  him 
what  canton  t  was  in  ?  and  upon  his  answering  that  I  was 
in  the  canton  of  Berne,  I  cried  out  transported  with  joy^ 
**I  than^  God  that  I  am.'*  The  good  man  answered, 
''And  so  do  I."  I  then  told  him  who  I  was,  and  that  I 
was  going  to  Berne  but  had  quite  lost  myself  by  keeping 
out  of  all  the  high  roads,  to  avoid  falling  into  the  hands  of 
those  who  sought  my  destruction.  He  thereupon  opened 
the  door,  received  and  entertained  me  with  all  the  hospi- 
tality his  poverty  would  admit  of;  regaled  me  with  sour 
crout  and  some  new  laid  eggs,  the  only  provision  be  had, 
and  clean  straw  with  a  kind  of  rug  for  a  bed)  he  having 
no  other  for  himself  and  wife.  The  good  woman  ex- 
pressed  as  much  good  dature  as  her  husband,  and  said 
many  kind  things  in  the  Swiss  language,  whieh  her  hus- 
band interpreted  to  me  in  the  Italian }  for  that  language 
he  well  understood,  having  learned  it  in  his  youth,  while 
servant  in  a  public  house  on  the  borders  of  Italy,  where 
both  languages  are  spoken.  T  never  passed  a  more  com- 
fortable night ;  and  no  sooner  did  I  begin  to  stir  in  the 
morning,  than  the  good  man  and  his  wife  both  came  to  know 
how  I  rested ;  and,  wishing  they  had  been  able  to  accom- 
modate me  better,  obbged  me  to  breakfast  on  two  eggs, 
which  providence,  they  said,  had  sent  thmn  for  that  purpose. 
I  took  leave  of  the  wife,  who  seemed  most  sincerely  to 
wish  me  a  good  journey.  As  for  the  husband,  he  would 
by  all  means  attend  me  to  the  high  road  leading  to  B^me} 


APPENDIX. 


281 


which  road  he  said  was  but  two  miles  distant  from  that 
place.  But  he  insisted  on  my  first  going  back  with  him, 
to  see  the  way  I  had  come  the  night  before ;  the  only  way, 
he  said,  I  could  have  possibly  come  from  the  neighboring 
canton  of  Lucerne.  I  saw  it,  and  shuddered  at  the  dan- 
ger I  had  escaped ;  for  I  found  I  had  walked  and  led  my 
horse  a  good  way  along  a  very  narrow  path  on  the  brink 
of  a  very  dangerous  precipice.  The  man  made  so  many 
pertinent  and  pious  remarks  on  the  occasion,  as  both 
charmed  and  surprised  me.  I  no  less  admired  his  disin- 
terestedness than  his  piety ;  for,  upon  our  parting,  after 
he  had  attended  me  till  I  was  out  of  all  danger  of  losing 
my  way,  I  could  by  no  means  prevail  upon  him  to  accept 
of  any  reward  for  his  trouble.  He  had  the  satisfaction, 
he  said,  of  having  relieved  me  in  the  greatest  distress, 
which  was  in  itself  a  sufficient  reward,  and  he  wished  for 
no  other.    ♦    *    *    ♦ 

Having  at  length  got  safe  into  French  Flanders,  I  there 
repaired  to  the  college  of  the  Scotch  Jesuits  at  Douay, 
and  discovering  myself  to  the  rector,  I  acquainted  him 
with  the  cause  of  my  sudden  departure  from  Italy,  and 
begged  him  to  give  notice  of  my  arrival,  as  well  as  the 
motives  of  my  flight  to  Michael  Angelo  Tambuvini,  gen- 
eral of  the  order,  and  my  very  particular  friend. 

The  rector  wrote  as  I  desired  him,  to  the  general,  and 
he,  taking  no  notice  of  my  flight,  in  his  answer,  (for  he 
could  not  disapprove,  and  did  not  think  it  safe  to  approve 
of  it,)  ordered  me  to  continue  where  I  was  till  further 
notice.  I  arrived  at  Douay  early  in  May,  and  continued 
there  till  the  beginning  of  July,  when  the  rector  received 
a  second  letter /rom  the  general,  acquainting  him  that  he 
had  been  commanded  by  the  congregation  of  the  Inquisi- 
tion, to  order  me,  wherever  I  was,  back  into  Italy ;  to 
S4* 


yo^it^ 


282 


APPENDIX. 


promise  me,  in  their  name,  full  pardon  and  forgiveness  if 
I  obeyed,  but  if  I  did  not  obey,  to  treat  me  as  an  apostate. 
He  added,  that  the  same  order  had  been  transmitted,  soon 
after  my  flight,  to  the  nuncios  at  the  different  Roman 
Catholic  courts ;  and  he,  therefore,  advised  me  to  consult 
my  own  safety  without  further  delay. 

Upon  the  receipt  of  the  general's  kind  letter,  the  rector 
was  of  opinion  that  I  should  repair  by  all  means,  and 
without  loss  of  time,  to  England,  not  only  as  the  safest 
asylum  I  could  fly  to,  in  my  present  situation,  but  as  a  place 
where  I  should  soon  recover  my  native  language,  and  be 
usefully  employed,  either  there  or  in  Scotland.  The  place 
being  thus  agreed  on,  and  it  being  at  the  same  time  settled 
between  the  rector  and  me,  that  I  should  set  out  the  very 
next  morning,  I  solemnly  promised,  at  his  request  and 
desire,  to  take  no  kind  of  notice,  after  my  arrival  in  Eng- 
land, of  his  having  been  in  any  way  privy  to  my  flight, 
or  the  general's  letter  to  him.  This  promise  I  have  futh- 
fuUy  and  honorably  observed ;  and  should  have  thought 
myself  guilty  of  the  blackest  ingratitude  if  I  had  not  ob- 
served it,  being  sensible  that,  had  it  been  known  at  Boqae, 
that,  either  the  rector  or  general  had  been  accessary  to 
my  flight,  the  Jkquisition  would  have  resented  it  eeverely  in 
both.  For  although  a  Jesuit  in  France,  in  Flanders,  or  in 
Germany,  is  out  of  the  reach  of  the  Inquisition,  the  gen- 
eral is  not ;  and  the  high  tribunal  not  only  have  it  in  their 
power  to  punish  the  general  himself,  who  resides  con- 
stantly at  Bome,  but  may  oblige  him  to  inflict  what  pun- 
ishment they  please  on  any  of  the  order  obnoxious  to 
them. 

*  The  rector  went  that  very  night  out  of  tpwn,  and  in  his 
absence,  but  not  without  his  privity,  I  took  one  of  the 
horses  of  the  college,  early  next  morning,  as  if  I  were 


•   m 


APPENDIX. 


283 


going  for  a  change  of  air,  being  somewhat  indisposed,  to 
pass  a  few  days  at  Lisle ;  but  steering  a  different  course, 
I  reached  Aire  that  night  and  Calais  the  next  day.  I  was 
there  in  no  danger  of  being  stopped  and  seized  at  the 
prosecution  of  the  Inquisition,  a  tribunal  no  less  abhorred 
in  France  than  in  England.  But  being  informed  that  the 
nuncios  at  the  different  courts  had  been  ordered,  soon  after 
my  flight,  to  cause  me  to  be  apprehended  in  Roman  Cath- 
olic countries  through  which  I  must  pass,  as  an  i^postate 
andf  deserter  from  the  order,  I  was  under  no  small  appre- 
hension of  being  discovered  and  apprehended  as  such 
even  at  Calais.  No  sooner,  therefore,  did  I  al^ht  at  the 
Inn,  than  I  went  down  to  the  quay,  and  there  as.  I  wa» 
very  tittle  acquainted  with  the  sea,  and  thought  the  pas- 
sage much  shorter  than  it  is,  I  endeavored  to  engage  some 
fishermen  to  carry  me  that  very  night,  in  one  of  their 
small  vessels,  over  to  England.  This  alarmed  the  guards 
of  the  harbor,  and  I  should  have  been  certainly  appre- 
hended as  a  person  guilty,  or  suspected  of  some  great 
crime,  fleeing  from  justice,  had  not  Lord  Balthnore,  whom 
I  had  the  good  luck  to  meet  in  the  Inn,  informed  me  of 
my  danger,  and  pitying  my  condition,  attended  me  thai 
moment,  with  all  his  company,  to  the  port,  and  conveyed 
me  immediately  on  board  his  yacht  There  I  lay  that 
night,  leaving  every  thing  I  had  but  the  clothes  on  my 
back,  in  the  Inn;  and  the  next  day  his  Lordship  set 
me  ashore  at  Dover,  from  whence  I  came  in  the  conmion 
stage  to  London. 

In  the  year  1706,  the  Inquisition  at  Arragon  was 
broken  up  by  the  French  troops,  under  the  command  of 
the  Duke  of  Orleans.  The  Holy  Inquisitors  were  driven 
from  their  beautiful  house,  and  in  answer  to  their  indig- 
nant remonstrance  were  told  that  the  king  wanted  the' 


'% 


'I.r 


IKI 


I 
Ml 


';^i 


l^t! 


fVii 


284 


▲PPENDU. 


house  to  quarter  his  troops  in,  and  they  were  therefore 
compelled  to  leave  it  immediately.  The  doors  of  the 
prisons  were  then  thrown  open,  and  among  the  four  hun- 
dred prisoners  who  were  set  at  liberty  were  sixty  young 
women,  very  beautiful  in  person,  and  clad  in  the  richest 
attire. 

Anthony  Gavin,  formerly  one  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
priests  of  Saragossa,  Spain,  relates  (in  a  book  published 
by  him  after  his  conversion)  that  when  travelling  in 
France  he  met  one  of  those  women  in  the  inn  at  Rotch- 
fort ;  the  son  of  the  inn-keeper,  formerly  an  officer  in  the 
French  army,  having  married  her  for  her  great  beauty 
and  superior  intelligence.  In  accordance  with  his  request^ 
she  freely  related  to  him  the  incidents  of  her  prison  life, 
from  which  we  take  the  following  extract: 

"  Early  the  next  morning,  Mary  got  up,  and  told  me 
that  nobody  was  up  yet  in  the  house ;  and  that  she  would 
show  me  the  dry  pan  and  the  grculual  jwe^  on  condition 
that  I  should  keep  it  a  secret  for  her  sake  as  well  as  my 
own.  This  I  promised,  and  she  took  me  along  with  her, 
and  showed  me  a  dark  room  with  a  thick  iron  door,  and 
within  it  an  oven  and  a  large  brass  pan  upon  it,  with  a 
cover  of  the  same  and  a  lock  to  it.  The  oven  was  burn- 
ing at  the  time,  and  I  asked  Mary  for  what  purpose  the 
pan  was  there.  Without  giving  me  any  answer,  she  took 
me  by  the  hand  and  led  me  to  a  large  room,  where  she 
showed  me  a  thick  wheel,  covered  on  both  sides  with  thick 
boards,  and  opening  a  little  window  in  the  center  of  it, 
desired  me  to  look  with  a  candle  on  the  inside  of  it,  and  I 
saw  all  the  circumference  of  the  wheel  set  with  »harp  ra- 
zors. After  that  she  showed  me  apit  full  ofserperUa  and 
toads.  Then  she  said  to  me,  <  Now,  my  good  mistress,  I  '11 
tell  you  the  use  of  these  things.    The  dry  pan  and  grad- 


APPEin>IZ. 


285 


ual  fire  are  for  those  who  oppose  the  holy  father^s  will, 
and  for  heretics.  They  are  put  naked  and  alive  into  the 
pan,  and  the  cover  of  it  being  locked  up,  the  executioner 
begins  to  put  in  the  oven  a  small  fire,  and  hj  degrees  he 
augmenteth  it,  till  the  body  is  burned  to  ashes.  The  sec- 
mid  is  designed  for  those  who  speak  against  the  Pope  and 
the  holy  fathers.  They  are  put  within  the  wheel,  and  the 
door  being  locked,  the  executioner  turns  the  wheel  till  the 
person  is  dead.  The  third  is  for  those  who  contemn  the 
images,  and  refuse  to  give  the  due  respect  and  veneration 
to  ecclesiastical  persons ;  for  they  are  thrown  alive  into 
the  pit,  and  there  they  become  the  food  of  serpents  and 
toads.'  Then  Mary  said  to  me  that  another  day  she 
would  show  me  the  torments  for  public  sinners  and  trans- 
gressors of  the  commandments  of  holy  mother  church ; 
but  I,  in  deep  amazement,  desired  her  to  show  me  no  more 
places ;  for  the  very  thought  of  those  three  which  I  had 
seen,  was  enough  to  terrify  me  to  the  heart.  So  we  went 
to  my  room,  and  she  charged  me  again  to  be  very  obedi- 
ent to  all  commands,  for  if  I  was  not,  I  was  sure  to  under- 
go the  torment  of  the  dry  pan." 

Llorente,  ihe  Spanish  historian  and  secretary*general 
of  the  Inquisition,  relates  the  following  incident :  "  A 
physician,  Juan  de  Salas,  was  accused  of  having  used  a 
profane  expression,  twelve  months  before,  in  the  heat  of 
debate.  He  dedied  the  accusation,  and  produced  several 
witnesses  to  prove  his  innocence.  But  Moriz,  the  inquis- 
itor at  Yalladolid,  where  the  charge  was  laid,  caused  de 
Salas  to  be  brought  into  his  presence  in  the  torture-cham- 
ber, stripped  to  his  shirt,  and  laid  on  a  ladder  or  donkey ftai 
instrument  resembling  a  wooden  trough,  just  large  enough 
to  receive  the  body,  with  no  bottom,  but  having  a  bar  or 
bars  10  placed  that  the  body  bait,  by  ita  own  weight,  into 


.1 » '^i 


286 


APPENDIX. 


)!' 


nil 


mi' 


an  exquisitely  painful  position.  His  head  was  lower  than 
his  heels,  and  the  breathing,  in  consequence,  became  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  The  poor  man,  so  laid,  was  bound 
around  the  arms  and  legs  with  hempen  cords,  each  of  them 
encircling  the  limb  eleven  times. 

During  this  part  of  the  operation  they  admonished 
him  to  confess  the  blasphemy;  but  he  only" answered  that 
he  had  never  spoken  a  sentence  of  such  a  kind,  and  then, 
resigning  himself  to  suffer,  repeated  the  Athanasian  creed, 
and  prayed  to  God  and  our  Lady  many  times.  Being 
still  bound,  they  raised  his  head,  covered  his  face  with  a 
piece  of  fine  linen,  and,  forcing  open  the  mouth,  caused 
water  to  drip  into  it  from  an  earthen  jar,  slightly  perfora- 
ted at  the  bottom,  producing  in  addition  to  his  sufferings 
from  distension,  a  horrid  sensation  of  choking.  But  again, 
when  they  removed  the  jar  for  a  moment,  he  declared  that 
he  had  never  uttered  such  a  sentence ;  and  this  he  often 
repeated.  They  then  pulled  the  cords  on  his  right  leg, 
cutting  into  the  flesh,  replaced  the  linen  on  his  face, 
dropped  the  water  as  before,  and  tightened  the  cords  on 
his  right  leg  the  second  time ;  but  still  he  maintained  that 
he  had  never  spoken  such  a  thing ;  and  in  answer  to  the 
questions  of  his  tormentors,  constantly  reiterated  that  he 
had  never  spoken  those  words.  Moriz  then  pronounced 
that  the  said  torture  should  be  regarded  as  begun,  but 
not  finished ;  and  De  Salas  was  released,  to  live,  if  he 
could  survive,  in  the  incessant  apprehension  that  if  he  gave 
the  slightest  umbrage  to  a  familiar,  he  would  be  carried 
again  into  the  same  chamber,  and  be  r<xcked  in  every 
limb," 

Llorente  also  relates,  from  the  original  records,  another 
case  quite  as  cruel  and  unjust  as  the  above.  "  On  the 
8th  day  of  December,  1528,  one  Catalina,  a  woman  of 


APPENDIX. 


2C7 


htul  characteTf  informed  tho  inquisitors  that,  eighteen  yean 
be/ore  she  had  lived  in  the  house  ivith  a  Morisco  named 
Juan,  by  trade  a  coppersmith,  and  a  native  of  Segovia ; 
that  she  had  observed  that  neither  he  nor  his  children  ate 
pork  or  drank  wine,  and  that,  on  Saturday  nights  and 
Sunday  mornings  they  used  to  wash  their  feet,  which  cuS' 
torn,  as  well  as  abstinence  from  pork  and  wine,  was  pecu- 
liar to  the  Moors.  The  old  man  was  at  that  time  an 
inhabitant  of  Benevente,  and  seventy-one  years  of  age. 
But  the  inquisitors  at  once  summoned  him  into  their  pres- 
ence, and  questioned  him  at  three  several  interviews.  All 
that  he  could  tell  was,  that  he  received  baptism  when  he 
was  forty-five  years  of  age;  thatj  having  never  eaten 
pork  or  drunk  wine,  he  had  no  taste  for  them ;  and  that, 
being  coppersmiths,  they  found  it  necessary  to  wash  them- 
selves thoroughly  once  a  week.  After  some  other  exam- 
inations, they  sent  him  back  to  Benevente,  with  prohibi- 
tion to  go  beyond  three  leagues'  distance  from  the  town. 
Two  years  afterwards  the  inquisitor  determined  that  he 
should  be  threatened  with  torture,  in  order  to  obtain  infor- 
maiion  that  might  help  them  to  criminate  others.  He  was 
accordingly  taken  to  Yalladolid,  and  in  a  subterranean 
chamber,  called  the  *  chamber,  or  dungeon,  of  torment,' 
stripped  naked,  and  bound  to  the  *  ladder.'  This  might 
well  have  extorted  something  like  confession  from  an  old 
man  of  seventy-one ;  but  he  told  them  that  whatever  he 
might  say  when  under  torture  would  be  merely  extorted 
by  the  extreme  anguish,  and  therefore  unworthy  of  belief; 
that  he  would  not,  through  fear  of  pain,  confess  what  had 
never  taken  place.  They  kept  him  in  close  prison  until 
the  next  Auto  de  Fe,  when  he  walked  among  the  penitents, 
with  a  lighted  candle  in  his  hand,  and,  after  seeing  others 
burnt  to  death,  paid  the  holy  office  a  fee  of  four  ducats. 


288 


APPENDIX. 


*i 


if-; 


and  went  home,  not  acquitted,  but  released.  He  was  oot 
summoned  again,  as  he  died  soon  afterwards." 

It  sometimes  happened  that  an  individual  was  arretted 
by  mistake,  and  a  person  who  was  entirely  innocent  was 
tortured  instead  of  the  real  or  supposed  criminal.  A 
case  of  this  kind  Mr.  Bower  found  related  at  length  in 
the  **  Annals  of  the  Inquisition  at  Macerata." 

"  An  order  was  sent  from  the  high  tribunal  at  Rome  to 
All  the  inquisitors  throughout  Italy,  enjoining  them  to 
apprehend  a  clergyman  minutely  described  in  that  order. 
One  answering  the  description  in  many  particulars  being 
discovered  in  the  diocese  of  Osimo,  at  a  email  distance 
from  Macerata,  and  subject  to  that  Inquisition,  he  was 
there  decoyed  into  the  holy  office,  and  by  an  order  from 
Borne  to  racktd  at  to  lote  hit  tentet.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  true  person  being  apprehended,  the  ui^ppy  wretch 
was  dismissed,  by  a  second  order  from  Rome,  but  he  never 
recovered  the  use  of  his  senses,  nor  wot  any  care  taken 
of  him  hy  the  JnquitUion." 

It  would  be  easy  to  fill  a  volume  with  such  narratives 
as  the  above,  but  we  forbear.  We  are  not  writing  a  his* 
tory  of  the  Inquisition.  We  simply  wish  to  exhibit  the 
true  spirit  by  which  the  Romanists  are  actuated  in  their 
dealings  with  those  over  whom  they  have  power.  We 
therefore,  in  dosing  this  chapter  of  horrors,  beg  leave  to 
place  before  our  readers  one  of  the  faltherly  benedictions 
with  which.  His  Holiness,  the  Pope,  dismisses  his  refrac^ 
tory  subjects.  Does  it  not  show  most  convincingly  what 
he  would  do  here  in  America,  if  he  had,  among  us,  the 
power  he  formerly  possessed  in  the  old  world,  when  the 
least  inadvertent  word  might  perchance  seal  the  doom  of 
the  culprit? 


APPENDIX. 


289 


eleased.    He  was  not 
erwards." 

dividual  was  arretted 
entirelj  innocent  was 
pposed  criminal.  A 
related  at  length  in 
acerata." 

h  tribunal  at  Rome  to 
[jf  enjoining  them  to 
ascribed  in  that  order, 
any  particulars  being 
>,  at  a  small  distance 
Eit  Inquisition,  he  was 
nd  hj  an  order  from 
In  the  mean  time, 
,  the  unhappy  wretch 
Rome,  but  he  never 
W€U  any  care  taken 


r 


with  such  narratives 

ire  not  writing  a  his* 

r  wish  to  exhibit  the 

are  actuated  in  their 

y  have  power.    We 

horrors,  beg  leave  to 

fatiierljf  benedictiont 

dismisses  his  refrac- 

ffit  convincingly  what 

had,  among  us,  the 

old  world,  when  the 

ace  seal  the  doom  of 


A  POPISH  BULL  OB  0UB8E. 

**  Pronounced  on  all  who  leave  the  Church  of  Rome. 
By  the  authority  of  God  Almighty,  the  Father,  Son  and 
Holy  Ghost,  and  the  undefiled  Virgin  Mary,  mother  and 
patroness  of  our  Saviour,  and  of  all  celestial  virtues,  An- 
gels, Archangels,  Thrones,  Dominions,  Powers,  Cherubim 
and  Seraphim,  and  of  all  the  holy  Patriarchs,  Prophets, 
and  of  all  the  Apostles  and  Evangelists,  of  the  holy  inno- 
cents, who  in  the  sight  of  the  holy  Lamb  are  found  wor- 
thy to  sing  the  new  song  of  the  Holy  Martyrs  and  Holy 
Confessors,  and  of  all  the  Holy  Virgms,  and  of  all  the 
Saints,  together  with  the  Holy  Elect  of  God, — May  he 
be  damned.  We  excommunicate  and  anathematize  him, 
from  the  threshold  of  the  holy  church  of  Gk)d  Almighty. 
We  sequester  him,  that  he  may  be  tormented,  disposed, 
and  be  delivered  over  with  Datham  and  Abiram,  and 
with  those  who  say  unto  the  Lord,  *  Depart  from  us,  we 
desire  none  of  thy  ways ; '  as  a  fire  is  quenched  with 
water,  so  let  the  light  of  him  be  put  out  forevermore^ 
unless  it  shall  ^pent  him,  and  make  satisfaction.    Amen. 

"  May  the  Father  who  creates  man,  curse  him.  May 
the  Son,  who  suffered  for  us,  curse  him  I  May  the  Holy 
Ghost  who  is  poured  out  in  baptism,  curse  him !  May 
the  Holy  Cross,  which  Christ  for  our  salvation,  triumphing 
over  his  enemies,  ascended,  curse  him  I 

'^May  the  Holy  Mary,  ever  Virgin  and  Mother  of 
Grod,  curse  him !  May  all  the  Angels,  Principalities,  and 
Powers,  and  all  heavenly  Annies  curse  him !  May  the 
glorious  band  of  the  Patriarchs  and  Prophets  curse  him  I 

'^  May  St.  John  the  Precursor,  and  St.  John  the  Bap- 
tist, and  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  St.  Andrew  and  all 
other  of  Christ's  Apostles  together  curse  him  and  may 

25 


290 


APPENDIX. 


III! 


I 


the  rest  of  the  Dlsciplen  and  Evangelists  who  by  their 
preaching  converted  the  universe,  and  the  Holy  and 
wonderful  company  of  Martyrs  and  Confessors,  who  by 
their  works  are  found  pleasing  to  Grod  Almighty;  may  the 
holy  choir  of  the  Holy  Virgins,  who  for  the  honor  of  God 
have  despised  the  things  of  the  world,  damn  him.  May 
all  the  Saints  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  to  everlast- 
ing ages,  who  are  found  to  be  beloved  of  God,  damn  him  I 

'^May  he  be  damned  wherever  he  be,  whether  in  the 
house  or  in  the  alley,  in  the  woods  or  in  the  water,  or  in 
the  church !    May  he  be  cursed  in  living  or  dymg ! 

^  May  he  be  cursed  in  eatuig  and  drinking,  in  being 
hungry,  in  being  thirsty,  in  fasting  and  sleeping,  in  slum- 
bering,  and  in  sitting,  in  living,  in  working,  in  resting,  and 
in  blood  letting  I  May  be  be  cursed  in  all  the  fhculties 
of  his  body ! 

'*  May  he  be  cursed  inwardly  and  outwardly.  May  he 
be  cursed  in  his  hair ;  cursed  be  he  in  his  brains,  and  hi) 
vertex,  in  his  temples,  in  his  eyebrow?,  in  his  cheeks,  in 
his  jaw-bones,  in  his  nostrils,  in  his  teeth,  and  grinders,  in 
his  lips,  in  his  shoulders,  in  his  arms,  and  in  his  fingers. 

*^  May  he  be  damned  in  his  mouth,  in  his  breast,  in  his 
heart,  and  purtenances,  down  to  the  very  stomach ! 

<<May  he  be  cursed  in  his  reins  and  groins,  in  his 
thighs  and  \js  hips,  and  in  his  knees,  his  legs  and  his  f^et, 
and  his  toe-nails ! 

"  May  he  be  cursed  in  all  his  jomts,  and  articulation  of 
the  members ;  from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  soles  of 
his  feet,  may  there  be  no  soundness ! 

"  May  vhe  Sci  of  the  living  Grod,  with  all  the  glory  of 
his  majesty,  curs4  him/  And  may  Heaven,  with  all  the 
pbwers  that  move  herein,  rise  up  against  him,  and  curse 
and  damn  him ;  aaK'.? ■  he  repent  nnd  make  satisfaction ! 
Amen  !     So  be  it      Bo  it  so,  Am-n." 


APPSMDIX. 


201 


'W 


Such  uraa  the  Curse  pronounced  on  tin  Rev.  Wid* 
Hogan,  (a  converted  Roman  Catholic  priest)  a  few  years 
since,  in  Philadelphia. 

As  a  further  proof  of  the  cruel,  persecuting  spirit  of 
Catholicism,  let  us  glance  at  a  few  extracts  from  their  own 
publications. 

"ChildJren.'  t  .<^  si  « are  obliged  to  denounce  their 
parents  o/  itjlatlcns  \vho  are  guilty  of  heresy ;  aUkough 
they  kn'jW  ihct  t.->  wiU  he  burnt.  They  may  refuse  them 
ai  nouri  ument,  and  permit  them  to  die  with  hunger;  or 
they  til  ay  kill  them  as  enemies,  who  violate  the  rights  of 
humanity.  —  Escobar^  T%edg.  Morale  vol.  4,  lib.  81,  sec.  2, 
precept  4,  prop.  6,  p.  239." 

"  A  man  condemned  by  the  Pope,  may  be  killed  where- 
ever  he  is  found.  —  La  OroiXf  vol.  1,  p.  294. 

"  Children  may  kill  their  paient8,if  they  would  turn  their 
children  from  the  Popish  faith.**  *'  If  a  judge  decide  con- 
trary to  law,  the  injured  person  may  defend  himself  by 
killing  the  judge.**  ~~  Fangunde»  Precept  Decal,  vol.  1, 
lib.  4,  chap.  2,  p.  601,  655,  and  vol.  2,  lib.  8,  chap.  82 ;  p* 
390. 

"  To  secretly  kill  your  calumniatof,  to  avoid  scandal, 
is  justifiable."  — ^yrauA,  Cimf.  p.  dl9t  i 

"  You  may  kill  before  hand,  any  person  who  may  pttt 
you  to  death,  not  exciting  the  judge^  and  vitneuett  be- 
cause it  is  self-defence."  —  Emanuel  So.  Aphor^  p.  178* 

'*  A  pri(»t  mti^  kill  those  who  hinder  him  from  taking 
posse:'  U  a  of  any  Ecclesiastical  office." —.imt'ctM,  Nunit 
131. 

«  You  may  charge  your  opponent  with  false  crime  to 
take  away  his  credit,  as  well  as  kill  him."  —  Guimeniutf 
prop,  8,  p.  86. 


292 


APPENDIX. 


!  ^ 


'  ;■! , 


n>  ]■!; 


i^ 


"  Priests  may  kill  the  laity  to  preserve  their  goods."  — 
Nblina,  vol.  3,  disput.  16,  p.  1786. 

"You  may  kill  any  man  to  save  a  crown." —  Tahemaf 
Si/nop.  j'heol  Tract,  pars.  2  chap.  27,  p.  256. 

"  ^  the  command  of  God  it  is  lawful  to  murder  the  in* 
nocent,  to  rob,  and  to  commit  all  kind  of  wickedness,  be- 
cause  he  is  the  Lord  of  life  and  death,  and  aU  things  ;  and 
thus  to  fulfill  his  mandate  is  our  duty. — Alagona,  Thorn. 
Aquin,  Sum.  Theol.  Compend,  Quest.  94,  p.  230. 

Again,  in  the  Eomish  Creed  found  in  the  pocket  of 
Priest  Murphy,  who  was  killed  in  the  battle  of  Arklow, 
1798,  we  find  the  following  articles.  "  We  acknowledge 
that  the  priests  can  make  vice  virtue,  and  virtue  vice, 
according  to  their  pleasure. 

"  We  are  bound  to  believe  that  the  holy  massacre  was 
lawful,  and  lawfully  put  into  execution,  against  Protes- 
tants, and  likewise  we  are  to  continue  the  same,  provided 
with  safety  to  our  lives  ! 

"  We  are  bound  not  to  keep  our  oaths  with  heretics, 
though  bound  by  the  most  sacred  ties.  We  are  bound  not 
to  believe  their  oaths ;  for  their  principles  are  damnation. 
We  are  bound  to  drive  heretics  with  fire,  sword,  faggot, 
and  confusion,  out  of  the  land ;  as  our  holy  fathers  say, 
if  their  heresies  prevail  we  will  become  their  slaves.  We 
are  bound  to  absolve  without  money  or  price,  those  who 
imbrue  their  hands  in  the  blood  of  a  heretic ! "  Do  not 
these  extracts  show  very  clearly  that  Bomanism  can  do 
things  as  bad  as  anything  in  the  foregoing  narrative  ? 


their  goods."  — 


APPENDIX    VI. 


ROMANISM   OF  THE   PSESEKT  DAT. 


Whenever  we  refer  to  the  relentless  cruelties  of  the 
Bomanists,  we  are  told,  and  that«  too,  hy  the  influential, 
the  intelligent,  those  who  are  well-informed  on  other  sub- 
jects, that  "these  horrid  scenes  transpired  only  in  the 
'dark  ages;'"  that  "the  civilization  and  refinement  of 
the  present  age  has  so  modified  human  society,  so  in- 
creased the  milk  of  human  kindness,  that  even  Rome 
would  not  dare,  if  indeed  she  had  the  heart,  to  repeat  the 
cruelties  of  by-gone  days." 

For  the  honor  of  humanity  we  could  hope  that  this 
Ojjinion  was  correct ;  but  facts  of  recent  date  compel  us 
to  believe  that  it  is  as  false  as  it  is  ruinous  to  the  best 
interests  of  our  country  and  the  souls  of  men.  A  few  of 
these  facts,  gathered  from  unquestionable  sources,  and 
some  of  them  related  by  the  actors  and  sufferers  them- 
selves, we  place  before  the  reader. 

In  November,  1854,  Ubaldus  Borzinski,  a  monk  of  the 
Brothers  of  Mercy,  addressed  an  earnest  petition  to  the 
Pope,  setting  forth  the  shocking  immoralities  practised 
in  the  convents  of  his  order  in  Bohemia.  He  specifies 
nearly  forty  crimes,  mostly  perpetrated  by  priors  and  sub- 
priors,  giving  time,  place,  and  other  particulars,  entreating 
the  Pope  to  interpose  his  power,  and  correct  those  horri- 
ble abuses. 

For  sending  this  petition,  he  was  thrown  into  a  mad- 


294 


APPENDIX. 


If!  i-lj  ■ 


house  of  the  Brothers  of  Mercy,  at  Prague,  vrhere  he  still 
languishes  in  dreary  confinement,  though  the  only  mark 
of  insanity  he  ever  showed  was  in  imagining  that  the  Pope 
would  interfere  with  the  pleasures  of  the  monks. 

This  Ubaldus  has  a  brother,  like  minded  with  himself, 
also  a  member  of  the  same  irisnamed  order  of  monks, 
who  has  recently  effected  his  escape  from  durance  vile. 

John  Evangelist  Borzinski  was  a  physician  in  the  con- 
vent of  the  Brothers  of  Mercy  at  Prague.  He  is  a  scien- 
tific and  cultivated  man.  By  the  study  of  the  Psalms  and 
Lessons  from  the  New  Testament,  which  make  up  a 
considerable  part  of  the  Breviary  used  in  cloisters,  he  was 
first  led  into  Protestant  views.  He  had  been  for  seven- 
teen years  resident  in  different  cloisters  of  his  order,  as 
sick-nurse,  alms  gatherer,  student,  and  physician,  and 
knew  the  conventual  life  out  and  out.  As  he  testifies : 
"  There  was  little  of  the  fear  of  God,  so  far  as  I  could 
see,  little  of  true  piety ;  but  abundance  of  hypocrisy,  eye- 
service,  deception,  abuse  of  the  poor  sick  people  in  the 
hospitals,  such  love  and  hatred  as  are  common  among  the 
children  of  this  world,  and  the  most  shocking  vices  of 
every  kind." 

He  now  felt  disgust  for  the  cloister  life,  and  for  the 
Romish  religion,  and  he  sought,  by  the  aid  of  divine  grace, 
to  attain  to  the  new  birth  through  the  Word  of  God. 
Speaking  of  his  change  of  views  to  a  Prussian  clergyman, 
he  thus  describes  his  conversion :  "  Look  you,  it  was  thus 
I  became  a  Protestant.  I  found  a  treasure  in  that  dust- 
heap,  and  went  away  with  it."  This  treasure  he  prized 
more  and  more.  He  then  thought  within  himself,  if  these 
detached  passages  can  give  such  light,  what  an  illumina- 
tion he  must  receive  if  he  could  read  and  understand  the 
whole  Bible* 


APPENDIX. 


295 


He  did  not,  however,  betray  his  dissatisfaction,  but 
devoted  himself  to  his  professional  duties  with  gi*eater 
diligence.  He  might  still  have  remained  in  the  Order, 
his  life  hid  with  Christ  in  God,  had  not  the  hierarchy,  un- 
der pretence  of  making  reforms  and  restoring  the  neg- 
lected statutes  of  the  Order,  brought  in  such  changes  for 
the  worse  as  led  him  to  resolve  to  leave  the  order,  and 
the  Bomish  church  as  well.  Following  his  convictions, 
and  the  advice  of  a  faithful  but  very  cautious  clergyman, 
he  betook  himself  to  the  territories  of  Prussia,  where,  on 
the  17th  of  January,  1855,  he  was  received  into  the  na- 
tional church  at  Petershain,  by  Dr.  Nowotny,  himself 
formerly  a  Bohemian  priest.  This  was  not  done  till  great 
efforts  had  been  made  to  induce  him  to  change  his  pur- 
pose, and  also  to  get  his  person  into  the  power  of  his 
adversaries.  As  he  had  now  left  the  church  of  Rome, 
become  an  openly  acknowledged  member  of  another  com- 
munion, he  thought  he  might  venture  to  return  to  his  own 
country.  Taking  leave  of  his  Prussian  friends,  to  whom 
he  had  greatly  endeared  himself  by  his  modesty  and  his 
lively  faith,  he  went  back  to  Bohemia,  with  a  heart  full 
of  peace  and  joy. 

He  lived  for  some  time  amidst  many  perplexities,  se- 
cluded in  the  house  of  his  parents  at  Prosnitz,  till  betrayed 
by  some  who  dwelt  in  the  same  habitation.  On  the  6th 
of  March  he  was  taken  out  of  bed,  at  eight,  by  the  police, 
and  conveyed  first  to  the  cloister  in  Prosnitz,  where  he 
suffered  much  abuse,  and  from  thence  to  the  cloister  in 
Prague.  Here  the  canon  Dittrich,  "  Apostolical  Convisi- 
tator  of  the  Order  of  the  Brothers  of  Mercy,"  justified  all 
the  inhuman  treatment  he  had  suffered,  and  threatened 
him  with  worse  in  case  he  refused  to  recant  and  repent. 
Dittrich  not  only  deprived  him  of  his  medical  books,  but 


206 


APPENDIX. 


J 


•  i  '<■■ 


:   : 


m'n 


im.:  ■.  V 


iv  i^  i;!ii: 


told  him  that  his  going  over  to  Protestantism  was  a 
greater  crime  than  if  he  had  plundered  the  convent  of 
two  thousand  florins.  He  was  continually  dinned  with 
the  cry,  "  Retract,  retract ! "  He  was  not  allowed  to  see 
his  brother,  confined  m  the  same  convent,  nor  other 
friends,  and  was  so  sequestered  in  his  cell  as^o  make  him 
feel  that  he  was  forgotten  by  all  the  world. 

He  managed,  through  some  monks  who  secretly  sjrmpa- 
thized  with  him,  to  get  a  letter  conveyed  occasionally  to 
Dr.  Nowotny.  These  letters  were  filled  with  painful 
details  of  the  severities  practised  upon  him.  In  one  of 
them  he  says,  "  My  only  converse  is  with  God,  and  the 
gloomy  walls  around  me."  He  was  transferred  to  a  cell 
in  the  most  unwholesome  spot,  and  infested  with  noisome 
smells  not  to  be  described.  Close  by  him  were  confined 
some  poor  maniacs,  sunk  below  the  irrational  brutes. 

Under  date  of  April  23d  he  writes :  "  Every  hour,  in 
this  frightful  dungeon  seems  endless  to  me.  For  many 
weeks  have  I  sat  idle  in  this  durance,  with  no  occupation 
but  prayer  and  communion  with  God."  His  appeals  to 
civil  authority  and  to  the  Primate  of  Hungary  procured 
him  no  redress,  but  only  subjected  him  to  additional 
annoyances  and  hardships.  His  aged  father,  a  man  of 
four-score  years,  wept  to  see  him,  though  of  sound  under- 
standing, locked  up  among  madmen ;  and  when  urged  to 
make  his  son  recant,  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  it, 
and  returned  the  same  day  to  his  sorrowful  home.  As 
he  had  been  notified  that  he  was  to  be  imprisoned  for 
life,  he  prayed  most  earnestly  to  the  Father  of  mercies 
for  deliverance ;  and  he  was  heard,  for  his  prayers  and 
endeavors  wrought  together.  The  sinking  of  his  health 
increased  his  efforts  to  escape ;  for,  though  he  feared  not 
to  die,  he  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  dying  imprisoned 


APPENDIX. 


297 


in  a  mad-house,  where  he  knew  that  his  enemies  would 
take  advantage  of  his  mortal  weakness  to  administer  their 
sacraments  to  him,  and  give  out  that  he  had  returned  to 
the  bosom  of  the  church,  or  at  least  to  shave  his  head, 
that  he  might  be  considered  as  an  insane  person,  and  his 
renunciation  of  Romanism  as  the  effect  of  derangement 
of  mind.  Several  plans  of  escape  were  projected,  all 
beset  with  much  difficulty  and  danger.  The  one  he  de- 
cided upon  proved  to  be  successful. 

On  Saturday,  the  13th  of  October,  at  half-past  nine  in 
the  evening,  he  fastened  a  cord  made  of  strips  of  linen  to 
the  grate  of  a  window,  which  grate  did  not  extend  to  the 
top.  Having  climbed  over  this,  he  lowered  himself  into 
a  small  court-yard.  He  had  now  left  that  part  of  the 
establishment  reserved  for  the  insane,  and  was  now  in 
the  cloistered  part  where  the  brethren  dwelt.  But  here 
his  fortune  failed  him.  He  saw  at  a  distance  a  servant 
of  the  insane  approaching  with  a  light ;  and  with  aching 
heart  and  trembling  limbs,  by  a  desperate  effort,  climbed 
up  again.  He  returned  to  his  cell,  concealing  his  cord, 
and  laid  himself  down  to  rest. 

On  the  following  Monday,  he  renewed  his  efforts  to 
escape.  He  lowered  himself,  as  before,  into  the  little 
court-yard ;  but  being  weak  in  health  and  much  shaken  in 
his  nervous  system  by  all  he  had  suffered  in  body  and 
mind,  he  was  seized  with  palpitation  of  the  heart  and 
trembled  all  over,  so  that  he  could  not  walk  a  step.  He 
laid  down  to  rest  and  recover  his  breath.  He  felt  as  if 
he  could  get  no  further.  "  But,"  he  says  in  his  affecting 
narrative,  "  My  dear  Saviour  to  whom  I  turned  in  this 
time  of  need,  helped  me  wonderfully.  I  felt  now,  more 
than  ever  in  my  life.  His  gracious  and  comforting  pros- 
ence,  and  believed,  in  that  dismal  moment,  with  my  whole 


it- 


298 


IPPENDIX. 


I.  UJ^ 


li    (f 


soul,  His  holy  word ;  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee ; 
for  my  strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness." 

Borzinski  now  arose,  pulled  o£f  his  boots,  and  though 
every  step  was  made  with  difficulty,  he  ascended  the  stairs 
leading  to  the  first  story.  He  went  along  the  passage  way 
until  he  came  to  a  door  leading  into  corridors  Vhere  the 
cloister  brethren  lodged.  But  the  trembling  fit  came  over 
him  again,  with  indescribable  anguish,  as  he  sought  to  open 
the  door  with  a  key  with  which  he  had  been  furnished. 
He  soon  rallied  again,  and,  like  a  spectre,  gliding  by  the 
doors  of  the  brethren,  who  occupied  the  second  and  third 
corridors,  many  of  whom  had  lights  still  burning,  he  came 
with  his  boots  in  one  hand,  and  hid  bundle  in  the  other,  to 
a  fourth  passage  way,  in  which  was  an  outside  window  he 
was  trying  to  reach.  The  cord  was  soon  fastened  to  the 
window  frame,  yet  still  in  bitter  apprehension ;  for  this 
window  was  seldom  opened,  and  opened  hard,  and  with 
some  noise.  It  was  also  only  two  steps  distant  from  the 
apartment  of  the  cloister  physician,  where  there  was  a 
light,  and  it  was  most  likely  that,  on  the  first  grating  of 
the  window,  he  would  rush  out  and  apprehend  the  fugitive. 
However  the  window  was  opened  without  raising  any 
alarm,  and  now  it  was  necessary  to  see  that  no  one  was 
passing  below ;  for  though  the  spot  is  not  very  much  fre- 
quented, yet  the  streets  cross  there,  and  people  approach 
it  from  four  difierent  directions.  During  these  critical 
moments,  one  person  and  another  kept  passing,  and  poor 
Borzinski  tarried  shivering  in  the  window  for  near  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  he  ventured  to  let  himself  down. 
While  he  was  waiting  his  opportunity  he  heard  the  clock 
strike  the  third  quarter  after  nine  and  knew  that  he  had 
but  fifteen  minutes  to  reach  the  house  where  he  was  to 
conceal  himself,  which  would  be  closed  at  ten.    When  all 


APPENDIX. 


299 


was  still,  he  called  most  fervently  on  the  Saviour,  and 
grasping  the  cord,  slid  down  into  the  street.  He  could 
scarce  believe  his  feet  were  on  the  ground.  Trembling 
now  with  joy  and  gratitude  rather  than  fear,  he  ran  bare- 
headed to  his  place  of  refuge,  where  he  received  a  glad 
welcome.  Having  changed  his  garb,  and  tarried  till 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  took  leave  of  his  friends 
and  passing  through  the  gloomy  old  capital  of  Bohemia, 
he  reached  the  Portzitscher  Gate,  in  order  to  pass  out  as 
early  as  possible.  Just  then  a  police  corporal  let  in  a 
wagon,  and  Borzinski,  passed  out  unchallenged.  It  is 
needless  to  follow  him  further  in  his  flight.  We  have 
given  enough  of  his  history  to  prove  that  conventual 
establishments  are  at  this  moment  what  they  ever  have 
been— dangerous  alike  to  liberty  and  life.  Jbnerican  tmd 
Foreign  Christian  Union, 

In  place  of  labored  arguments  we  give  the  following' 
history  of  personal  suffering  as  strikingly  illustrative  oi 
the  spirit  of  Romanism  at  the  present  day. 


P''!lli, 


0' '  H 


APPENDIX    VII. 


I  •     I 


i  \- 


m 


NABBATIVE    OF    8I0N0RINA   FLORIENCIA   D*  ROMANI,  A 
NATIVE   OF  THE  CtTT  OF  NAPLES. 

I  was  born  in  the  year  ,1826,  of  noble  and  wealthy 
parents.  Our  mansion  contained  a  small  chapel,  with 
many  images,  sacred  paintings,  and  a  neatly  furnished 
mass  altar.  My  father  was  a  man  of  the  world.  He 
loved  the  society  of  fashionable  men.  As  he  lived  on  the 
rents  and  income  of  his  estates,  he  had  little  to  do,  except 
to  amuse  himself  with  his  friends.  My  mother,  who  was 
of  a  mild  and  sweet  disposition,  loved  my  father  very 
dearly,  but  was  very  unhappy  the  most  of  the  time 
because  my  father  spent  so  much  of  his  time  in  drinking 
with  his  dissolute  companions,  card  playing,  and  in  balls, 
parties,  theatres,  operas,  billiards,  &c.  Father  did  not 
intend  to  be  unkind  to  my  mother,  for  he  gave  her  many 
servants,  and  abundance  of  gold,  horses,  carriages  and 
grooms,  and  said  frequently  in  my  hearing,  that  his  wife 
should  be  as  happy  as  a  princess.  Such  was  the  state  of 
society  in  Italy  that  men  thought  their  wives  had  no  just 
reason  to  complain,  so  long  as  they  were  furnished  with 
plenty  of  food,  raiment  and  shelter. 

One  of  my  father's  most  intimate  friends  was  the  very 
Rev.  Father  Salvator,  a  Priest  of  the  order  of  St.  Francis; 
he  wore  the  habit  of  the  order,  his  head  was  about  half 
shaved.  The  sleeves  of  his  habit  were  very  large  at  the 
elbow:  in  these  sleeves  he  had  small  pockets,  in  which  he 


▲PPBNDIl. 


301 


usually  carried  his  snoff  box,  handkerchief,  and  pane  of 
gold.  This  priest  was  merry,  full  of  fun  and  frolic;  he 
could  dance,  sing,  play  cards,  and  tell  admirably  funny 
stories,  such  as  would  make  even  the  devils  laugh  in  their 
chains. 

Such  was  the  influence  and  power  this  Franciscan  had 
over  my  father  and  mother,  that  in  our  house,  his  word 
was  law.  He  was  our  confessor,  knew  the  secrets  and 
sins,  and  all  the  weak  points  of  every  mind  in  the  whole 
household.  My  own  dear  mother  taught  me  to  read 
before  I  was  seven  years  of  age.  As  I  was  the  only  child, 
I  was  much  petted  and  caressed,  indeed,  such  was  my 
mother's  affection  for  me  that  I  was  seldom  a  moment  out 
of  her  sight  There  was  a  handsome  mahogany  confess- 
ional  in  our  own  chapel.  When  the  priest  wanted  any 
member  of  the  household  to  come  to  him  to  confession,  he 
wrote  the  name  on  a  slate  that  hung  outside  the  chapel 
door,  saying  that  he  would  hear  confessions  at  such  a  time 
to-morrow.  Thus,  we  would  always  have  time  for  the 
full  examination  of  our  consciences.  Only  one  at  a  time 
was  ever  admitted  into  the  chapel,  for  confessional  duty, 
and  the  priest  always  took  care  to  lock  the  door  inside 
and  place  the  key  in  his  sleeve  pocket*  My  mother  and 
myself  were  obliged  to  confess  once  a  week ;  the  house- 
hold servants,  generally  once  a  month.  My  father  only 
once  a  year,  during  Lent,  when  all  the  inhabitants  of  seven 
years,  and  upwards,  are  obliged  to  kneel  down  to  the 
priests,  in  the  confessional,  and  receive  the  wafer  God 
under  the  severest  penalties.  Woe  to  the  individual  who 
resists  the  ecclesiastical  mandate. 

When  I  was  about  fourteen  years  of  age,  I  was  sent  to 
the  Ursuline  Convent,  to  receive  my  education.  My  dear 
mother  would  have  preferred  a  governess  or  a  competent 

19 


302 


APPENDIX. 


'it' 


<: 


:  »  :    Kt  I 


teacher  to  teach  me  at  home  but  her  will  was  but  a  mere 
straw  in  the  hands  of  our  confessor  and  priestly  tyrant. 
It  was  solely  at  the  recommendation  of  the  confessor,  that 
I  was  imprisoned  four  years  in  the  Ursuline  Convent.  As 
my  confessor  was  also  the  confessor  of  the  convent,  he 
called  himself  my  guardian  and  protector,  ^and  recommen- 
ded me  to  the  special  care  of  the  Mother  Abbess,  and  her 
holy  nuns,  the  teachers,  who  spent  much  of  their  time  in 
the  school  department.  As  my  father  paid  a  high  price, 
quarterly,  for  my  tuition  and  board,  I  had  a  good  room  to 
myself,  my  living  was  of  the  best  kind,  and  I  always  had 
wine  at  dinner.  The  nuns,  my  teachers,  took  much  more 
pains  to  teach  me  the  fear  of  the  Pope,  bishops  and  con- 
fessors, than  the  fear  of  God,  or  the  love  of  virtue.  In 
fact,  with  the  exception  of  a  little  Latin  and  embroidery, 
which  I  learned  in  those  four  years,  I  came  out  as  igno- 
rant as  I  was  before,  unless  a  little  hypocrisy  may  be  called 
a  useful  accomplishment.  For,  of  all  human  beings  on 
earth,  none  can  teach  hypocrisy  so  well  as  the  Bomish 
priests  and  nuns.  In  the  school  department  young  ladies 
seldom  have  much  to  complain  of,  unless  they  are  charity 
scholars ;  in  that  case  the  poor  girls  have  to  put  up  with 
very  poor  fare,  and  much  hard  work,  hard  usage  and  even 
heavy  blows ;  how  my  heart  has  ached  for  some  of  those 
unfortunate  girls,  who  are  treated  more  like  brutes,  than 
human  beings,  because  they  are  orphans,  and  poor.  Yet 
they  in  justice  are  entitled  to  good  treatment,  for  thous- 
ands of  scuddi  (dollars)  are  sent  as  donations  to  the  con- 
vents for  the  support  of  these  orphans,  every  year,  by 
benevolent  individuals.  So  that  as  poor  and  unfortunate 
as  these  girls  are,  they  are  a  source  of  revenue  to  the 
convents. 

For  the  first  three  years  of  my  convent  life,  I  passed 


P  •  I 


APPENDIX. 


303 


nvent  life,  I  passed 


the  time  in  the  school  department,  without  much  anxiety 
cf  mind.  I  was  gay  and  thoughtless,  my  great  trouble 
was  to  find  something  to  amuse  myself,  and  kill  time  in 
some  way.  Though  I  treated  all  the  school-mates  with 
kindness,  and  true  Italian  politeness,  I  became  intimate 
with  only  one.  She  was  a  beautiful  girl,  from  the  duke- 
dom of  Tuscany.  She  made  me  her  confidant,  and  told 
me  all  her  heart.  Her  parents  were  wealthy,  and  both 
very  strict  members  of  the  Romish  Church.  But  she  had 
an  aunt  in  the  city  of  Geneva,  who  was  a  follower  of 
John  Calvin,  or  a  member  of  the  Christian  church  of 
Switzerland.  This  aunt  had  been  yearly  a  visitor  at  her 
father's  house.  She  being  her  father's  only  sister,  an 
affectionate  intimacy  was  formed  between  the  aunt  and 
niece.  The  aunt,  being  a  very  pious,  amiable  woman,  felt 
it  her  duty  to  impress  the  mind  of  the  niece,  with  the 
superiority  of  the  religion  of  the  holy  bible  over  popish 
traditions ;  and  the  truth  of  the  Scriptures  soon  found  its 
way  to  the  heart  of  my  young  friend.  But  her  confessor 
soon  found  out  that  some  change  was  going  on  in  her 
mind,  and  told  her  father.  There  were  only  two  ways  to 
save  her  soul  from  utter  ruin ;  one  was  to  give  her  abso- 
lution and  kill  her  before  she  got  entirely  out  of  the  holy 
mother  church ;  the  other,  was  to  send  her  to  the  Ursu- 
line  convent  at  Naples,  where  by  the  zeal  and  piety  of 
those  celebrated  nuns,  she  might  be  secured  from  further 
heresy. 

From  this,  the  best  friend  of  my  school  days,  I  learned 
more  about  God's  word,  and  virtue,  and  truth,  and  the 
value  of  the  soul,  than  from  all  other  sources.  There 
was  a  garden  surrounded  hy  a  high  wall,  in  which  we  fre- 
quently walked,  and  whispersd  to  each  other,  though  we 
trembled  all  the  while  for  feiar  our  confessor  would  by 


•# 


304 


▲PPINDIX. 


i 


some  means,  find  out  that  we  looked  upon  the  Romish 
church  as  the  Babylon  destined  to  destruction,  plainly 
spoken  of  by  St.  John  the  revelator. 

My  young  friend  stood  in  great  fear  of  the  priests  \  she 
trembled  at  the  very  sight  of  one. 

Her  aunt  had  read  to  her  the  history  and  sufferings  of 
the  persecuted  Protestants  of  Europe.  She  was  a  frail, 
and  timid  girl,  yet  such  was  the  depth  of  her  piety  and 
the  fervor  of  her  religious  faith,  that  she  often  declared  to 
me  that  she  would  prefer  death  to  the  abandonment  of 
those  heavenly  principles  she  had  embraced,  which  were 
the  source  of  her  joy  and  hope.  Her  aunt  gave  her  a 
pocket  New  Testament,  in  the  Italian  language,  which  she 
prized  above  all  the  treasures  of  earth,  and  carried  \f'Jh 
her  carefully,  wheit,?****  she  went.  I  borrowed  it  and 
road  it  every  opportunity  I  had.  Several  chapters  I 
learned  by  heart.  J  took  much  pains  to  commit  to  mem- 
ory all  I  could  of  the  blessed  book ,  for  in  ease  of  our 
separation,  I  knew  not  where  I  could  obtain  another. 
My  god-father  who  was  a  bishop,  called  to  see  me  on  my 
fifteenth  birth  day,  and  presented  me  with  a  splendid  gold 
watch  and  chain  richly  studded  with  jewels,  made  in  Eng- 
land, and  valued  at  200  scudi,  saying  that  he  had  it  im- 
ported expressly  for  my  use.  I  had  also  several  diamond 
articles  of  jewelry,  presents  I  had  received  from  my 
father  from  time  to  time.  I  had  also,  in  my  purse,  100 
scudi  in  gold,  which  I  had  saved  from  my  pin  money. 
All  the  above  property,  I  should  have  cheerfully  given  for 
a  copy  of  the  Holy  Bible,  in  my  own  beautiful  Italian 
language.  A  few  months  after  I  received  the  rich  present 
from  the  Bishop,  he  called  with  my  father  and  my  confes- 
sor to  see  me.  My  heart  almost  came  into  my  mouth 
when  I  saw  them  alight  from  my  father's  carriage,  and 


APPENDIX. 


306 


of  the  priestt ;  sbe 


enter  the  chapel  door  of  the  C(  invent.  Very  soon  the  lady 
porter  came  to  me  and  said,  "  Signorina,  you  are  wanted 
in  the  parlor." 

As  my  Tuscan  friend  had  taught  mo  to  pray,  and  ask 
the  Lord  Jesus  for  grace  and  strength,  I  walked  into  my 
room,  locked  the  door,  and  on  my  knees,  called  upon  the 
Lord  to  save  me  from  becoming  a  nun  —  for  I  knew  then 
it  was  a  determination  on  the  part  of  the  Abbess,  bishop 
and  confessor,  that  I  should  take  the  veil.  I  was  the  only 
child,  and  heiress  of  an  immense  fortune,  of  course,  too 
good  a  prize  to  be  lost.  After  a  short  and  fervent  prayer 
to  my  Lord  and  Saviour,  I  walked  down  to  see  what  was 
to  be  my  doom.  I  kissed  my  father's  cheek,  and  kissed 
the  hands  of  the  Bishop  and  confessor— yet  my  very 
soul  revolted  from  the  touch  of  these  whited  sepulchres. 
All  received  me  with  great  cordiality,  yea,  even  more 
than  usual  affection.  Soon  after  our  meeting,  my  father 
asked  permission  of  the  Bishop  to  speak  to  me  privately 
and  taking  me  into  a  small  room,  said  to  me,  "  My  dear 
daughter,  you  are  not  aware  of  the  great  misfortune  that 
has  recently  come  upon  your  father.  While  I  was  excited 
with  wine  at  the  card-table  last  evening,  betting  high  and 
winning  vast  sums  of  money,  I  so  far  forgot  myself  and 
my  duty  to  the  laws  of  the  country,  that  I  called  for  a 
toast,  and  induced  a  number  of  my  inebriated  companions 
to  drink  the  health  of  Italian  liberty,  and  we  all  drank 
and  gave  three  cheers  for  liberty  and  a  liberal  constitution. 
A  Benedictine  Friar  being  present,  took  all  our  names  to 
the  Commissary  General,  and  offered  to  be  a  witness 
against  us  in  the  King's  Court.  As  this  is  my  first  and 
only  offence,  the  holy  Bishop  your  god-father  offers  on 
certain  conditions,  to  visit  Rome  immediately  on  my  be- 
half, and  secure  the  mediation  of  the  holy  Father  Fius 
*         86* 


I    :M 


306 


APPENPIZ. 


'       I 


H    " 


5      \*l]: 


IX.  Your  venerable  god^father  has  great  influence  at 
Rome,  being  a  special  favorite  with  his  holiness,  and  his 
holiness  can  obtain  any  favor  he  asks  of  King  Ferdinand. 
So  if  you  will  only  consent  to  take  the  Black  Veil,  your 
father  will  be  saved  from  the  State  prison." 

This  was  terrible  news  to  my  young  and  palpitating 
heart.  It  was  the  first  heavy  blow  that  I  bad  experienced 
in  this  vale  of  tears.  I  did  not  speak  for  some  minutes ; 
I  could  not.  My  trembling  bosom  heaved  like  the  \fave8 
of  the  ocean  before  the  blast.  My  veins  were  almost 
bursting ;  my  hands  and  feet  became  as  cold  as  marble, 
and  when  I  attempted  to  speak  my  words  seemed  ready 
to  choke  me  to  death.  I  thought  my  last  hour  had  come. 
I  fell  upon  my  knees  and  called  upon  God  for  mercy  and 
help.  My  father,  thinking  I  had  gone  mad,  was  greatly 
alarmed.  The  Bishop  and  confessor,  who  were  anxiously 
waiting  the  result  of  my  father's  proposition,  hearing  my 
father  weep  and  sob  aloud,  came  in  to  see  what  the  mat- 
ter was.  In  the  midst  of  my  prayer,  I  fainted  away,  and 
became  entirely  unconscious.  When  I  came  to  myself, 
I  found  myself  on  the  bed.  As  I  opened  my  eyes,  it  lUI 
seemed  like  a  dream.  The  abbess  spoke  to  me  very 
kindly,  and  sprir  liled  my  bed  with  holy  water,  and  at  the 
same  time  laid  •*  .'arge  bronze  crucifix  on  my  breast,  say- 
ing that  Satan  .  mat  be  driven  from  my  soul,  for  had  it 
not  been  for  the  devil,  I  would  have  leaped  for  joy,  and 
not  fainted  when  father  mentioned  the  black  veil.  "No," 
said  the  holy  mother,  "  had  it,  not  been  for  the  devil  you 
would  rejoice  to  take  the  holy  black  veil  blessed  by  the 
Holy  Ma;donna  and  the  blessed  saints  Clara  and  Theresa. 
It  is  a  holy  privilege  that  very  few  can  enjoy  on  earth. 
Tea,  my  daughter,  there  can  not  be  a  greater  sin  in  the 
sight  of  the  Madonna  and  the  blessed  saints,  than  to  reject 


nn 


APPENDIX. 


307 


a  secluded  life.  Yea,"  said  the  crafty  old  nun,  (who  "was 
thinking  much  more  about  my  gold,  than  my  soul,)  "  I 
never  knew  a  young  lady  who  had  the  offer  of  becoming 
a  nun  and  rejected  it,  who  ever  came  to  a  good  end.  If 
they  refuse,  and  marry,  they  generally  die  in  child-bed 
with  the  first  child,  or  they  will  marry  cruel  husbands, 
who  beat  them  and  kill  them  by  inches.  Therefore,  dear 
daughter,  let  me  most  affectionately  warn  you  as  you  have 
had  the  honor  of  being  selected  by  the  holy  Bishop  and 
pur  holy  confessor  to  the  high  dignity  and  privilege  of  a 
professed  nun,  of  the  order  of  St.  Ursula,  reject  it  not  at 
your  peril.  Be  assured,  heaven  knows  how  to  punish 
such  rebellion." 

My  head  ached  so  violently  at  the  time,  and  I  was  so 
feverish  that  I  begged  the  old  woman  to  send  for  my  mother, 
and  to  talk  to  me  no  more  on  the  subject  of  the  black  veil, 
but  to  drop  it  until  some  future  time.  In  my  agony  on  ac- 
count of  the  foul  plot  against  my  liberty,  my  virtue,  and  my 
gold,  I  felt  such  a  passion  of  rage  come  upon  me,  that  had 
I  absolute  power  for  the  moment  I  would  have  cast  every 
Abbess,  Pope,  Bishop  and  Priest  into  the  bottomless  pit. 
May  the  Lord  forgive  me,  but  I  would  have  done  it  at  that 
time  with  a  good  will.  The  greatest  comfort  I  now  had  was 
reading  my  Tuscan  friend's  New  Testament,  or  hearing 
it  read  by  her  when  we  had  a  chance  to  be  by  ourselves, 
which  was  not  very  often.  In  the  evening  of  the  same 
day  of  my  illness,  father  and  mother  came  to  see  me,  and 
Satan  came  also  in  the  shape  of  the  confessor ;  so  that  I 
had  not  a  moment  alone  with  my  dear  parents.  The  con- 
fessor feared  my  determined  opposition  to  a  convent's  life, 
for  he  had  previous  to  this,  several  times  in  the  confess- 
ional, dropped  hints  to  me  on  the  great  happiness,  purity, 
serenity  and  joy  of  all  holy  nuns.    But  I  always  told 


11 ', 


308 


APPENDIX. 


I  I 


I'lH'l 


'r  . 


him  I  would  not  be  a  nun  for  the  world.  I  should  be  so 
good,  it  would  kill  me  in  a  short  time.  "  No,  no,  father," 
said  I,  "I will  not  he  a  nun." 

Father  spoke  to  me  again  of  his  great  misfortune — 
told  mo  that  his  trial  would  come  on  in  a  few  days  and 
that  he  was  now  at  liberty  on  a  very  heavy  bail ;  that 
the  Bishop  was  only  waiting  my  answer  to  start  im- 
mediately for  the  holy  city,  and  throw  himself  at  the  feet 
of  the  holy  Pope  to  procure  father's  unconditional  pardon 
from  the  King.  I  said  "  my  dear  father,  how  long  will 
you  be  imprisoned  if  you  do  not  get  a  pardon  ?  "  "  From 
two  to  five  years,"  he  replied.  "  My  daughter,  it  is  my 
first  offence,  and  I  have  witnesses  to  prove  that  the  priest 
who  appeared  against  me,  urged  me  to  drink  wine  several 
times  after  I  had  drank  a  large  quantity,  and  was  the 
direct  cause  of  my  saying  what  I  did."  Now  it  all  came 
to  me,  that  the  whole  of  it  was  a  plot,  a  Jesuitical  trick,  to 
get  my  father  in  the  clutches  of  the  law,  and  then  make 
a  slave  of  me  for  life  through  my  sympathy  for  my  dear 
father. 

The  vile  priests  knew  that  I  loved  my  father  most 
ardently ;  in  fact,  my  father  and  mother  were  the  only 
two  beings  on  earth  that  I  did  love.  My  mother  I  loved 
most  tenderly,  but  my  affection  for  my  father  was  of  a 
different  kind.  I  loved  him  most  violently,  with  all  the 
ardor  of  my  soul.  Mother  seemed  all  the  home  to  me; 
Imt  father  was  to  me  all  the  world  beside.  My  father 
was  all  the  brother  I  had.  He  would  frequently  come 
home,  and  get  me  to  go  out  into  the  garden  and  play 
with  Uiii^,  just  as  though  he  was  my  brother.  There  we 
would  swing,  run,  jump  and  exercise  in  several  healthy 
games,'  common  in  our  climate.  He  never  gave  me  an 
unkind  word  or  an  unkind  reproof.    If  I  did  say  anything 


f)    ».♦ 


:ff^'>. 


APPENDIX. 


309 


wrong,  he  would  take  me  to  my  mother  and  say,  "  Clara, 
here  I  bring  you  a  prisoner,  let  her  be  kept  on  bread 
and  waier  till  dinner  time."  Even  when  mother  had  dis- 
pleased him  about  some  trifle,  so  that  he  had  not  a  smile 
for  her,  he  always  had  a  smile  for  his  Flora.  Even  now, 
while  I  write,  a  chill  comes  over  my  frame,  while  I  think 
of  that  vile  Popish  plot.  I  said  to  my  father,  "  You  shall 
not  be  imprisoned  if  I  can  prevent  it ;  at  the  same  time  I 
do  not  see  any  great  gain,  comfort  or  profit  in  having  your 
only  daughter  put  in  prison  for  life,  without  the  hope  of  lib- 
erty ever  more,  to  save  you  from  two  years  imprisonment." 
At  these  words,  the  eyes  of  the  confessor  flashed  like 
lurid  lightnings ;  his  very  frame  shook,  as  though  he  had 
the  fever  and  ague.  Truth  seemed  so  strange  to  the 
priest,  that  he  found  it  hard  of  digestion.  Father  and 
mother  both  wept,  but  made  no  reply.  The  idea  of  put- 
ting their  only  child  in  a  dungeon  for  life,  though  it  might 
be  done  in  the  sacred  name  of  religion,  did  not  seem  to 
give  them  much  comfort.  "  Father,"  sard  I,  "  I  wish  to 
see  you  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  without  fail— I 
wish  to  see  you  alone ;  don't  bring  mother  or  any  one  else 
with  you.  You  shall  not  go  to  prison,  all  will  yet  be 
well."  On  account  of  this  reasonable  request,  to  see  my 
father  alone,  the  confessor  arose  in  a  terrible  rage  and  left 
the  apartment.  As  quick  as  the  mad  priest  left  us  to  our^ 
selves,  I  told  my  father  my  plan,  or  what  I  would  like  to 
do  with  his  permission.  My  plan  was,  for  my  mother 
and  myself  to  get  into  our  carriage  and  drive  to  the  pal- 
ace of  King  Ferdimuad  and  make  him  acquainted  with  all 
the  truth ;  for  I  was  aware  from  what  I  had  heard,  that  the 
King  had  heard  only  the  priest's  side  of  the  story.  My 
father  stood  in  such  fear  of  the  priests  that  he  only  con- 
sented to  my  pUa  with  great  reluctance,  saying  that  we 


.,  I 


1  ■  ■     i 


310 


APPENDIX. 


I!:! 


ought  first  to  make  our  plan  known  to  the  confessor,  lest 
he  should  be  offended.  To  this  my  mother  responded, 
saying,  "  My  daughter,  it  would  be  very  wrong  for  us  to 
go  to  the  King,  or  take  any  step  without  the  advice  of  our 
spiritual  guide."  Here,  I  felt  it  to  be  my  duty  to  reveal 
to  my  deceived  parents  some  of  the  secrets  of  tlie  con- 
fessional, though  I  might,  in  their  estimation,  be  guilty  of 
an  unpardonable  sin  by  breaking  the  seal  of  iniquity.  I 
revealed  to  my  parents  the  frequent  efforts  of  the  priest 
to  obtain  my  consent  to  take  the  veil,  and  that  I  had 
opposed  from  first  to  last,  every  argument  made  use  of  to 
rob  me  of  the  society  of  my  parents,  of  my  liberty,  and 
of  everything  I  held  dear  on  earth.  As  to  the  happiness 
of  the  nuns  so  much  talked  of  by  the  priests,  from  what 
I  had  seen  in  their  daily  walk  and  general  deportment, 
I  was  fully  convinced  that  there  was  no  reality  in  it ;  they 
were  mere  slaves  to  their  superiors,  and  not  half  so  happy 
as  the  free  slaves  on  a  plantation  who  have  a  kind  master. 
My  parents  saw  my  determination  to  resist  to  the  death 
every  plan  for  my  imprisonment  in  the  hateful  nunnery. 
Therefore  they  promised  that  I  should  have  the  opportu- 
nity to  see  the  King  on  the  morrow  in  company  with  my 
mother. 

On  the  following  day,  at  twelve  o'clock,  we  left  the 
convent  in  our  carriage  for  the  palace.  We  were  very 
politely  received  by  the  gentleman  usher,  who  conducted 
us  to  seats  in  the  roception-room.  After  sending  our 
cards  to  the  king,  we  waited  nearly  one  hour  before  he 
made  his  appearance.  His  majesty  received  us  with  much 
kindness,  raised  us  immediately  from  our  knees,  and  de- 
manded our  business.  I  was  greatly  embarrassed  at  first, 
but  the  frank  and  cordial  manner  of  the  sovereign  soon 
restored  me  to  my  equilibrium,  and  I  spoke  freely  in  be- 


APPENDIX. 


311 


half  of  mj  dear  father.  The  king  heard  me  through 
very  patiently,  with  apparent  interest,  and  said,  "  Signor- 
ina,  I  ani  inclined  to  believe  you  have  spoken  the  truth ; 
and  as  your  father  has  always  been  a  good  loyal  subject, 
I  shall,  for  your  sake,  forgive  him  this  offence ;  but  let 
him  beware  that  henceforth,  wine  or  no  wine,  he  does  not 
trespass  against  the  laws  of  the  kingdom,  for  a  second 
offence  I  will  not  pardon.  Go  in  peace,  8ignoras,.you  have 
my  royal  word.'* 

We  thanked  his  majesty,  and  returned  to  our  home 
with  the  joyful  tidings.  0,  how  brief  was  our  joy  I  My 
father,  who  had  been  waiting  the  result  of  our  visit  to  the 
palace  with  great  impatience,  received  us  with  open  arms, 
and  pressed  us  to  his  heart  again  and  again. 

I  was  so  excited  that,  long  before  we  got  to  him,  I  cried 
out, "  All  is  well,  all  is  well,  father.  A  pardon  from  the 
king  I  Joy,  joy  I "  "We  drove  home,  and  father  went  im- 
mediately to  spread  the  happy  news  amongst  his  friends. 
All  our  faithful  domestics,  including  my  old  affectionate 
nurse,  were  so  overjoyed  at  the  news  that  they  danced 
about  like  maniacs.  My  father  was  always  a  very  indul- 
gent and  liberal  master,  furnished  his  servants  with  the 
best  of  Italian  fare,  plenty  of  fresh  beef,  wine,  and  maca- 
roni. We  had  scarcely  got  rested,  when  our  tormenter, 
the  confessor,  came  into  our  room  and  said,  "  Signoras, 
what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  fandango  and  folly  amongst 
the  servants  ?  Are  the  heretics  aU  kittedf  that  there  should 
be  such  joy,  or  has  the  queen  been  delivered  of  a  son,  an 
heir  to  the  throne  ?  " 

My  dear  mother  was  now  as  pale  as  death,  and  silent, 
for  she  saw  that  the  priest  was  awfully  enraged ;  for,  al- 
though he  feigned  to  smile,  his  smile  was  similar  to  that 
of  the  hyena  when  digging  his  prey  out  of  the  grave. 


312 


APPENDIX. 


I   i 


I     I 


iO:! 


',   i 


•f»i 


The  priest's  dark  and  villainous  visage  bad  tbe  etfeet  of 
confirming  in  mj  mother's  mind  all  the  truth  regarding 
the  plot  to  enslave  me  for  life,  and  secure  all  my  father's 
estate  to  the  pockets  of  the  priests.  The  confessor  was 
now  terribly  mad,  for  two  obvious  reasons :  one  was  be- 
cause he  was  not  received  by  us  with  our  usual  cordiality 
and  blind  affection ;  the  other,  because,  by  the  king's  par- 
don, I  was  not  under  the  necessity  to  sacrifice  my  liberty 
and  happiness  for  life  to  save  my  father  from  prison ;  and 
what  tormented  him  the  most  Tas,  that  he  believed  that  I, 
though  young,  could  understand  and  thwart  his  hellish 
plans.  As  my  mother  trembled  and  was  silent,  fearing 
the  priest  was  cursing  her  and  her  only  daughter  in  his 
he'^rt,  —  for  the  priests  tell  such  awful  stories  about  the 
elfects  of  a  priest's  curse  that  the  great  mass  of  the  Ital- 
ian people  fear  it  more  than  the  plague  or  any  earthly 
misfortune. 

The  popish  priests  declare  thai  St.  Peter  is  the  door- 
keeper of  the  great  city  of  Grod,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
that  he  has  the  keys  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  has 
received  strict  orders  not  to  admit  any  soul,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, who  has  been  cursed  by  a  holy  priest,  unless 
that  eurse  has  been  removed  by  the  same  priest  m  the 
tribunal  of  penance.  I  was  obliged  to  speak  to  his  rev- 
erence, and  I  felt  so  free,  so  happy  in  Christ  as  my  only 
hope,  that  I  opened  my  mind  to  the  priest  very  fireely,  and 
told  him  what  I  thought  of  him  and  his  plot.  '^Sir 
priest,"  said  I,^*  I  shall  never  return  to  the  convent  to  stay 
long.  As  soon  as  the  time  for  my  education  ends,  I  shall 
return  to  liberty  and  domestic  life.  I  am  not  made  of  the 
proper  material  to  make  a  nun  of.  I  love  the  social  do- 
mestic circle ;  I  love  my  father  and  mother,  and  all  our 
domestics,  even  the  dogs  and  the  cats,  pigeons,  and  cana- 


APPENDIX. 


S13 


lad  the  effect  of 
truth  regarding 
I  all  my  father's 
le  confessor  vras 
ins :  one  ivas  be- 
r  usual  cordiality 
)y  the  king's  par- 
rifice  my  liberty 
from  prison ;  and 
le  believed  that  I, 
hwart  his  hellish 
ivas  silent,  fearing 
y  daughter  in  his 
stories  about  the 
t  mass  of  the  Ital- 
ic or  any  earthly 

Peter  is  the  door- 
avenly  Jerusalem, 
heaven,  and  has 
|oul,  under  any  cir- 
holy  priest,  unless 
lame  priest  in  the 
speak  to  his  rev- 
Jhrist  as  my  only 
ist  very  freely,  and 

his  plot.  **  Sir 
the  convent  to  stay 
ition  ends,  I  shall 
_  not  made  of  the 
,ve  the  social  do- 
►ther,  and  all  our 
►igeons,  and  cana- 


ries, the  fish-ponds,  play-grounds,  gardens,  rivers,  and 
landscapes,  mountain  and  ocean,  —  all  the  works  of  God 
I  love.  I  shall  live  out  of  the  convent  to  enjoy  these 
things;  therefore,  reverend  sir,  if  you  value  my  peace  and 
good-will,  never  speak  to  me  or  my  parents  on  the  subject 
of  my  becoming  a  nun  in  any  convent.  I  shall  prefer 
death  to  the  loss  of  my  personal  liberty." 

I  was  so  decided,  and  had  received  such  strength  and 
grace  from  heaven,  that  the  priest  was  dumbfounded,  -— 
my  smooth  stone  out  of  the  sling  had  hit  him  in  the  right 
place.  After  much  effort  to  appear  bland  and  good-na- 
tured, he  drew  near  my  chair,  seized  my  hand,  and  said, 
« My  dear  daughter,  you  mistake  me.  I  love  you  as  a 
daughter,  I  wish  only  your  happiness.  Your  god-father, 
the  holy  Bishop,  does  not  intend  that  you  shall  remain  a 
common  nun  more  than  a  year.  After  the  first  year  you 
shall  be  raised  to  the  highest  dignity  in  the  convent.  You 
shall  be  the  Lady  Superior,  and  all  the  nuns  shall  bow  at 
your  feet,  and  implicitly  obey  your  commands. 

"  The  Lady  Superior  of  St.  Clara  is  now  very  old,  and 
his  lordship  wishes  soon  to  fill  her  place.  For  that  pur- 
pose he  has  selected  his  adopted  daughter.  Your  talents, 
education,  wealth,  and  high  position  in  society,  eminently 
fit  you  for  one  of  the  highest  dignities  on  earth." 

"  A  thousand  thanks  for  the  kindness  of  my  lord  Bish- 
op," said  I ;  "  but  your  reverence  has  not  altered  my  mind 
in  the  least.  I  can  neyer  bow  down  to  the  feet  of  any 
Lady  Superior,  neither  w  11 1  ever  consent  to  see  a  single 
human  being  degraded  at  my  feet  The  holy  Bible  says, 
'Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  him  only 
shalt  thou  serve.' "  "  Bible, my  daughter! "  exclaimed  the 
priest,  "  Where  did  you  see  that  dangerous  book  ?  £now 
you  not  that  his  holiness  the  Pope  has  placed  it  in  the 
2" 


314 


AFPSNDIX. 


I  s 


Index  Expurgatorius,  because  it  has  been  the  means  of 
the  damnation  of  millions  of  souls  ?  Not  because  it  is  in 
itself  a  bad  book,  but  because  it  is  a  theological  work, 
prepared  only  for  the  priests  and  ministers  of  our  holj 
religion.  Therefore,  it  is  always  a  very  dangerous  book 
in  the  hands  of  women  or  laymen^  who  wrest  the  Scrip- 
tures  to  their  own  destruction." 

"  Well,  reverend  sir,"  I  replied,  "  you  seem  determined 
to  differ  from  the  Lord  Jesus  and  his  apostles.  I  read  in 
the  New  Testament  that  we  should  search  the  Scriptures 
because  they  testify  of  Christ.  And  one  of  the  apostles, 
I  don't  remember  which,  said,  *  all  scripture  is  given  by 
^e  inspiration  of  God,  and  is  profitable  for  doctrine  and 
for  instruction  in  righteousness.'  Now,  reverend  sir,  if  the 
people  have  souls,  as  well  as  the  priests,  why  should  they 
not  read  the  word  of  God  which  speaks  of  Christ  and  is 
profitable  for  instruction  ?" 

"  You  are  ahnost  a  heretic ! "  exclaimed  the  priest,  "and 
you  talk  very  much  like  one."  His  countenance  changed 
to  a  pale  sickly  hue,  as  he  said,  '*  My  daughter,  where  did 
you  get  that  dangerous  book  ?  If  you  have  it  in  your 
possession,  give  it  to  me,  and  I  will  bless  yoU)  and  pray 
for  you  to  the  blessed  Madonna  that  she  may  save  you 
from  the  infernal  pit  of  heresy." 

"  I  do  not  own  the  blessed  book,"  said  I,  "  but  I  wish 
I  did.  I  would  give  one  hundred  scudi  in  gold  for  a 
copy  of  the  New  Testament.  I  borrowed  a  copy  from  a 
friend,  and  returned  it  to  the  owner  again.  But  I  under- 
stand that  there  are  copies  to  be  had  in  London,  and 
when  I  have  a  good  opportunity  I  shall  send  for  a  copy, 
if  I  can  do  it  unbeknown  to  any  one." 

*'  Enough,  enough  I "  exclaimed  the  priest  "  I  shall  be 
in  the  tribunal  of  penance  at  six  o'clock  P;  M. ;  there  I 


APPENDIX. 


315 


aidl,"bttt  I  wish 
Icudi  in  gold  for  a 
Wed  a  copy  from  a 
Lain.  Tiutlunder- 
^  in  London,  and 
lU  send  for  a  copy, 

priest    « I  shall  be 
'   -    P.M.;thereI 


shall  expect  to  meet  you.  Ton  need  pardon  immediately, 
and  spiritual  advice.  Should  yon  die  as  you  now  are 
without  absolution,  you  would  be  lost  and  damned  forever. 
I  tremble  for  yon,  my  dear  daughter,  «eeing  tl\at  the  devil 
has  got  such  a  powerful  hold  of  you.  It  may  even  be  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  kill  the  body  to  save  your  soul ;  for 
should  yx>u  relapse  again  into  heresy  after  due  penance  for 
this  crime  has  been  perfoimed,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
renew  you  agun  to  repentance,  seeing  you  crucify  the  Lord 
and  the  Madonna  afresh,  and  put  them  to  an  <^>en  shame." 

Here  my  mother  fainted  and  shook  like  an  aspen  leaf. 
But  G*Ad  gave  me  strength,  and  I  said  in  a  moment  diat 
as  his  reverence  thought  my  sins  so  greait,  I  would  not  ge 
to  any  man,  no,  not  even  to  the  Pope ;  I  would  go  to  God 
alone,  and  leave  my  cause  in  his  habds,  life  or  death. 
"Therefore,  reverend  sir, I  shall  save  you  frgm  all  further 
trouble  in  attending  the  confessional  any  more  on  my 
accoignt.  From  henceforth  no  earthly  power  shall  drag 
me  alive  and  wHh  my  consent  to  the  tribunal  c^  penance.** 

"  Woman  1"  exclaimed  Ac  priest  furiously, '*  are  yon 
mad  ?  There  are  ten  thousand  devils  in  yon,  and  we  must 
drive  them  out  by  some  means.**  After  this  dischai^  of 
priestly  venom,  the  priest  left  in  a  rage  giving  the  door  a 
terrible  slam,  which  awoke  my  mother  from  her  sorroTf- 
fhl  trance.  During  the  whole  conversation,  such  was  the 
electrical  power  of  the  priest  over  my  mother'^)  weak  and 
n^^ous  system,  that  if  she  attempted  to  say  a  word  in  my 
behalf,  the  keen,  snakish  black  eye  of  the  priest  would  at 
once  make  her  tremble  and  quail  before  him,  and  the  hatf 
uttered  word  would  remain  siient  on  her  lips.  The  priest 
went  at  once  in  search  of  my  fatfaei*.  He  came  home  boil- 
ing over  with  rage,  saying  he  wished  I  had  never  been 
bom.    He  cursed  the  day  of  my  birth.  ^Tb»  cause  <^  all 


316 


APPENDIX. 


I   ■ 


this  paternal  fury  upon  my  poor  devoted  head  was  the 
foul  misrepresentations  of  my  father  confessor,  who  was 
now  in  league  with  the  Bishop,  both  determined  to  shut 
me  up  in  a  prison  convent,  or  end  my  mortal  career. 

My  poor  mother  remained  mute  and  heart-broken. 
My  sweet  mother ;  never  did  she  utter  ^ne  word  of 
unkindness  to  me ;  her  very  look  to  the  last  was  one  of 
gentleness  and  love.  But  my  father  loved  honor  and  rep- 
utation amongst  men  above  all  other  things.  The  idea 
of  being  the  father  of  an  accursed  heretic,  tormented  his 
pride,  and  he  being  suspected  of  heresy  himself  caused 
him  to  be  forsaken  by  many  of  his  proud  friends  and 
acquaintances.  He  was  even  insulted  in  the  streets  by 
the  numerous  Lazaroni,  with  the  epithet  of  Maldito  Cor- 
Tobonari,  so  that  I  lost  my  father's  love.  And  when  the 
confessor  told  him  there  was  no  other  way  to  save  me 
from  heU  than  an  entire  life  of  penance  in  a  convent,  he 
heartily  and  freely  gave  his  consent.  Mother,  my  own 
6weet  mother,  my  only  remaining  friend,  turned  as  pale 
as  death,  but  was  enabled  to  say  a  word  in  my  behalf. 

I  saw  that  my  earthly  doom  was  sealed ;  there  was  not 
a  single  voice  in  all  Naples  to  save  me  from  imprisonment 
for  life.  Not  a  tongue  in  four  hundred  thousand  that 
would  dare  speak  one  word  in  my  behalf.  Father  com- 
manded me  to  get  ready  to  leave  his  house  forever  that 
very  night,  saying  the  carriage  and  confessor  would  be  on 
.  hand  to  take  me  away  at  eight  o'clock  p.  m.,  by  moonlight. 
I  got  on  my  knees  and  begged  my  father  as  a  last  request 
that  he  would  allow  me  to  remain  three  days  with  my 
mother,  but  he  refused.  Said  he,  **  That  is  now  beyond  my 
power.     Not  an  hour  can  you  remain  afler  eight  o'clock." 

As  I  knew  not  when  I  should  see  my  Tuscan  friend 
again,  I  begged  the  privilege  of  seeing  ^her  for  a  few  mo- 


APPENDIX. 


317 


mentu.  I  was  anxious  to  ask  her  prayers  and  sympathy, 
and  to  put  her  on  her  guard,  for  should  the  priests  dis- 
cover her  New  Testament,  they  would  punish  her  as  they 
did  me,  or  as  they  intended  to  do  to  me.  But  this  favor 
was  denied  me,  and  I  could  not  write  to  her,  for  all  letters 
of  the  scholars  in  the  convents,  are  opened  under  the  pre- 
tence to  prevent  them  from  receiving  love*letters.  The 
Bomish  church  keeps  all  her  dark  plans  a  secret,  but 
never  allows  any  secret  to  be  kept  from  the  priests. 

I  went  into  my  room  to  bid  farewell  to  my  home  for- 
ever. I  fell  on  my  knees  and  prayed  to  God  for  his  dear 
Son's  sake  to  help  me,  to  give  me  patience,  and  to  keep  me 
from  the  sin  of  suicide.  The  more  I  thought  of  my 
utterly  unprotected  situation  and  of  the  savage  disposition 
of  my  foes,  the  priests,  the  more  I  thought  of  the  pro- 
priety of  taking  my  own  life,  rather  than  live  in  a  dungeon 
all  my  dap.  Such  was  the  power  of  superstition  over 
our  domestics  that  they  looked  upon  me  as  one  accursed 
of  the  church,  a  Protestant  heretic,  and  not  one  of  them 
would  take  my  hand  or  bid  me  good  bye.  At  tea-time 
I  was  not  allowed  to  sit  at  table  with  father,  mother,  and 
the  confessr/r,  as  formerly.  But 'I  bst^  my  supper  sent  up 
to  my  room.  -"  • 

A  short  time  after  the  bell  rang  for  vespers,  the  car- 
riage being  ready,  my  father  and  the  confessor  with  my- 
self and  one  small  trunk  got  into  the  best  seats  inside,  and 
rode  off  at  a  rapid  rate.  I  kept  my  veil  over  my  face,  and 
said  not  a  word  neither  did  I  shed  a  single  tear ;  my  sor* 
row  and  indignation  was  too  deep  for  utterance  or  even 
for  tears.  The  priest  and  my  father  uttered  not  a  word. 
Perhaps  my  father's  conscience  made  him  ashamed  of 
such  vile  work  —  that  of  laying  violent  hands  on  a 
defenceless  girl  of  eighteen  years  of  age,  for  no  crime 
27* 


0 


318 


APPENDIX. 


I* 


"'  A 


i  j; 


m 

It' 5,.'    i 


).'  K 


,  H 


n 


V  II 


whatever,  onlj  the  love  of  liberty  and  pure  Bible  religion. 
But  if  the  priest  was  silent,  his  vile  countenance  indicated 
a  degreti'^t  hellish  pleasure  and  satisfaction.  Never  did 
piratical'captain  glory  more  in  seeing  a  rich  prize  along 
side  with  all  hands  killed  and  out  of  the  way,  than  my  rev- 
erend confessor ;  yet  a  short  time  before  he  said  he  loved 
v<iii  me  as  a  daughter.  Yes,  he  did  love  mo,  as  the  wolf  loves 
the  lamb,  as  the  cat  loves  the  mouse  and  as  the  boa  con- 
strictor the  beautiful  gazelle.  To  my  momentary  satisfac- 
tion we  entered  the  big  gate  of  St.  Ursula,  for  although  I 
knew  I  should  suffer  there  perhaps  even  death,  there  was 
some  satisfaction  in  seeing  a  few  faces  that  I  had  seen  in 
my  gay  and  happy  days,  now  alas !  forever  gone  by  I  I 
was  somewhat  grieved  by  the  cold  reception  I  received. 
All  seemed  to  look  upon  me  with  horror.  But  none  of 
these  things  moved  me ;  I  looked  to  Grod  for  strength,  for 
I  felt  that  He  alone  could  nerve  me  for  the  conflict.  The 
hardest  blow  of  all  was,  my  dear  father  lefl  me  at  the 
mercy  of  the  priest  without  one  kind  look  or  word.  He 
did  not  even  shake  hands  with  me,  nor  did  he  say  farewell. 
Oh  Popery,  what  a  mysterious  power  is  thine  I  Thou 
canst  in  a  few  hours  destroy  powerful  love  which  it  took 
'%  long  years  to  cement  in  loving  hearts.  When  ay  father 
had  lefl  and  I  heard  the  porter  lock  the  heavy  iron  gate 
I  felt  an  exquisite  wretchedness  come  over  me.  I  would 
have  given  worlds  for  death  at  that  moment.  In  a  few 
moments  the  priest  rung  a  bell,  and  the  old  Jezebel  the 
mother  Abbess  made  her  appearance.  "  Take  this  here- 
tic, Holy  Mother,  and  place  her  in  confinement  in  the 
lower  regions ;  give  her  brecui  and  water  once  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  the  water  that  you  have  washed  your  sacred  feet 
in,  no  other ;  give  her  straw  to  sleep  on,  but  no  pillow. 
Take  all  her  clothing  away  and  give  her  a  coarse  tunic ; 


APPENDIX. 


319 


ono  single  coarse  gonnont  to  cover  her  nakedness,  but  no 
shoes.  She  has  grievously  sinned  against  the  holy 
mother  church,  and  now  she  mercifully  imposes  upon  her 
years  of  severe  penance,  that  her  body  of  sin  may  be 
destroyed  and  her  soul  saved  after  suffering  one  million  of 
years  in  holy  purgatory.  Our  chief  duty  now,  holy 
mother,  in  order  to  save  this  lost  soul  from  mortal  sin 
will  be  to  examine  her  carefully  every  day  to  ascertain  if 
possible  what  she  most  dislikes,  or  what  is  most  revolting 
to  her  flesh,  that  whatever  it  may  be,  she  must  be  com- 
pelled to  perform  it  whatever  it  may  cost  Let  a  holy 
wax  candle  bum  in  her  cell  at  night,  until  fbrther  orders. 
And  let  the  Tuscan  heretic  be  treated  in  the  same  way. 
They  are  both  guilty  of  the  same  crimes.  At  the  word 
"Tuscan  heretic,"  I  trembled  for 'my  darling  Christian 
sister,  the  only  one  possessing  the  spirit  of  Christ  that  I 
knew  on  earth.  Yet  how  true  it  is  that  misery  loves  com- 
pany ;  there  was  even  satbfactMUi  in  being  near  my  un- 
fortunate friend  though  our  sufferings  might  be  unuttera- 
ble. Still  I  was  unhappy  in  tcfae  thought  that  she  was 
suffering  on  my  account.  Had  I  never  said  a  word  about 
borrowing  a  New  Testament,  she  would  never  have  been 
suspected  as  being  the  direct  cause  of  my  conversion  to 
the  truth,  and  of  my  renunciation  of  the  vile  confessional. 
I  was  somewhat  puzzled  to  know  what  kind  of  a  place 
was  meant  by  the  hwer  region* ;  I  had  never  heard  of 
these  regions  before.  But  soon  two  women  in  black 
habits  with  their  faces  entirely  covered  excepting  two 
small  holes  for  the  eyes  to  peep  through,  came  to  me  and 
without  speaking,  made  signs  for  me  to  follow  them.  I 
did  so  without  resistance,  and  soon  found  myself  in  an 
under-ground  story  of  the  infernal  building.  « There  is 
your  cell,"  said  the  cowled  inquisitors,  *<look  all  around. 


^ 


m 


320 


APPENDIX. 


I 


if  ;   •' 


;»^i! 


see  every  tlung,  but  speak  not ;  no  not  for  your  life.  The 
soilest  whisper  will  immediately  reach  the  ears  of  the 
Mother  Abbess,  and  then  you  are  loaded  with  heavy 
chfuns  until  you  die,  for  there  must  be  no  talking  or  whis* 
pering  in  this  holy  retreat  of  penance.  And,"  said  my  jailor 
further,  **  take  off  your  clothes,  shoes  and  itodcings,  and 
put  on  this  holy  coarse  garment  which  will  chafe  thy  flesh 
but  will  bless  thy  soul.  Holy  St.  Francis  saved  many  bouls 
by  this  holy  garment." 

As  resistuice  was  worse  than  useless,  I  complied,  and 
soon  found  my  poor  feet  aching  with  the  cold  on  the  bare 
stone  floor.  I  was  soon  made  to  feel  the  blessing  of  St. 
Francis  with  a  vengeance.  My  sufferings  were  indescrib- 
able. It  seemed  as  though  ten  thousand  bees  had  stung 
me  in  every  part  I*never  dosed  my  eyes  fbr  several 
nights.  I  laid  on  my  coarse  straw  and  groaned  and  sighed 
for  death  to  come  and  relieve  me  of  my  anguish.  As 
soon  as  the  holy  wax  candle  was  left  with  me  I  took  it  in 
my  hand  and  went  forth  to  survey  my  dunge<m ;  but  I  did 
not  eigoy  my  ramble.  In  one  of  the  cells,  I  found  my 
Tuscan  friend-— that  dear  Christian  sister— in  great 
agony,  having  had  on  the  accursed  garment  for  several 
days.  Her  body  was  one  entire  blister,  and  very  much 
inflamed.  Her  bones  were  racked  with  pain,  as  with  the 
most  excruciating  inflammatory  rheumatism.  We  recog- 
nized each  other ;  she  pointed  to  heaven  as  if  to  say 
Hrust  in  the  Lord,  my  sister,  our  sufferings  will  soon  be 
over.'  I  kissed  my  hand  to  her  and  returned  again  to 
my  cell.  I  saw  other  victims  half  dead  and  emaciated 
that  made  my  heart  sick.  I  refrained  from  speaking  to 
any  one  for  I  feared  my  condition,  wretched  as  it  was, 
might  be  rendered  even  worse,  if  possible,  by  the  fiend:} 
who  had  entire  power  over  me.    ^  O  my  God ! "  said  I  to 


APPENDIX. 


321 


myself,  "why  was  I  bom?    O  give  my  soul  patience  to 
suffer  every  pain." 

On  the  fourth  day  of  my  imprisonment  the  jailor 
brought  me  some  water  and  soap,  a  towel,  brush  and 
comb,  and  the  same  clothes  I  wore  when  I  entered  the 
foul  den.  They  told  me  tu  make  haste  and  prepare  my- 
self to  appear  before  the  holy  Bishop.  Hope  revived  in 
my  soul,  for  I  always  thought  that  my  god-father  had 
some  regard  for  me,  and  had  now  come  to  release  me 
from  the  foul  den  I  was  in.  Cold  water  seemed  to  afford 
much  relief  to  my  tortured  body.  I  made  my  toilet  as 
quick  as  I  could  in  such  a  place.  My  feet  were  so  numb 
and  swollen  that  it  was  dif&cult  for  me  to  get  my  shoes  on. 
At  last  the  Bishop  arrived  as  I  supposed,  and  I  was  con- 
ducted —  not  into  his  presence  as  I  expected,  but  into  that 
of  my  bitterest  enemy,  the  confessor.  At  the  very  sight 
of  the  monster,  I  trembled  like  a  reed  shaken  by  the  wind. 
The  priest  walked  to  each  of  the  doors,  locked  them, 
put  the  keys  into  a  small  writing  desk,  locked  it,  took  out 
the  key  and  placed  it  carefuUy  in  his  sleeve  pocket.  This 
he  did  to  assure  me  that  we  were  alone,  that  not  one  of 
the  inmates  could  by  any  means  disturb  for  the  present 
the  holy  meditations  of  the  priest.  He  bade  me  take  a 
seat  on  the  sofa  by  him.  In  kind  soil  words  he  said  to 
me,  that  if  I  was  only  docile  and  obedient,  he  would  cause 
me  to  be  treated  like  a  princess,  and  that  in  a  short  time 
I  should  have  my  liberty  if  I  preferred  to  return  to  the 
world.  At  the  same  time  he  attempted  to  put  his  arm 
around  my  waist.  In  a  moment  I  was  on  my  feet.  While 
he  was  talking  love  to  me,  I  was  looking  at  two  lai^  ala- 
baster vases  full  of  beautiful  wax  flowers ;  one  of  them 
was  as  much  as  I  could  lift.  Without  one  thought  about 
consequences,  I  seized  the  nearest  vase  and  threw  it  with 


322 


APPBNWX. 


t  ;  ■ 


all  Uie  strenglb  I  had  at  the  priest's  head.  He  fell  like  a 
log  and  uttered  one  or  two  groans.  The  vase  was  broken. 
It  struck  the  priest  on  the  ri^t  temple,  close  to  the  ear. 
For  a  mom^it  I  listened  to  see  if  any  one  wwe  coming. 
I  then  looked  at  the  priest,  and  saw  th»  blood  mnning  ont 
of  his  wound.  I  quaked  with  fear  lest  I  had  killed  the 
destroyer  of  my  peace.  I  did  not  intend  to  kill  him,  I 
only  wi^ed  to  stun  him,  that  I  might  ta^e  the  keys,  open 
the  door  and  nm,  for  the  back  door  of  the  priest's  room 
led  right  into  a  badk  path  where  the  gates  were  frequently 
opened  during  the  day  time.  This  was  about  twelve 
o'clock,  and  a  most  &vorable  moment  fw  me  to  escape. 
In  a  moment  I  had  searched  the  sleeve  po<^t  of  the 
priest,  found  the  key  and  a  heavy  purse  of  gold  which  I 
secured  in  my  dress  po<^et.  I  opened  the  little  writing 
desk  and  took  out  the  key  to  the  back  door.  I  saw  that 
the  priest  was  not  dead,  and  I  had  not  the  least  doubt  from 
appefutmoes,  but  that  he  would  soon  come  to.  I  trembled 
for  fear  he  might  wake  before  I  could  get  away.  I  thought 
of  my  dear  Tuscui  sister  in  her  wretched  cell,  but  I  could 
not  get  to  her  without  being  discovered.  There  was  no 
time  to  be  lost  I  <^ned  the  Aoor  with  the  greatest 
facility  and  gained  the  <^aing  into  the  bade  path.  I 
locked  the  door  ai^r  me,  and  brought  the  key  with  me 
for  a  short  distance,  then  placed  all  the  keys  under  a  rock. 
I  had  no  hat  but  only  a  blade  veiL  I  threw  that  over  my 
head  after  die  fashion  of  Italy  and  gained  the  outer  gate. 
Tliere  were  iiias<ms  at  work  near  the  gate  nrhidi  was  open 
and  I  passed  through  into  the  street  widumt  being  ques- 
tioned by  any  one. 

As  I  had  not  a  nun's  dress  on,  no  one  supposed  I  bo- 
longed  to  the  Institution.  I  walked  down  directly  to  the 
eea  coast.    I  could  speak  a  few  English  w<»d9  which  I 


APPENDIX. 


323 


had  learned  from  some  English  friends  of  mj  fitther. 
Before  I  got  to  where  the  boats  lay  I  saw  a  geniieman 
whom  I  took  to  be  an  English  or  American  gentleman. 
He  had  a  pleasant  face,  looked  at  me  very  kindly,  saw  my 
pale  dejected  face  and  at  once  felt  a  deep  sympathy  for 
me.  As  I  appeared  to  be  in  trouble  mid  needed  help,  he 
extended  hie  hand  to  me  and  said  in  tolerable  good  Italian, 
<<<  Como  va'  le'  signorina  ?  "  that  is  "  How  do  yon  do  young 
lady  ?  "  I  asked  him  what  was  his  country.  "  Me,"  said 
he,  "Americano,  Americano,  capitano  do  Bastimento." 
(American  ei^talo  of  a  ship»)  "  Signer  Capitano,"  said 
I,  "  I  wish  to-  g-o  ot .  ^  '\'^  your  ship  ao4  see  an  American 
ship."  "Well,"  ST  id  he  "with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure; 
my  ship  lies  ait  anchor,  my  men  are  waiting ;  you  i^all 
dine  with  me,  Signorina." 

I  praised  God  in  my  soul  for  this  merciful  providence 
of  meeting  a  friend,  though  a  stranger,  whose  fhce  seemed 
to  me  so  honest  and  so  true.  Any  condition,  even  honest 
slavery,  would  have  been  preferred  by  rae  at  that  time 
to  a  convent.  The  American  ship  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful thing  I  ever  saw  afloat;  splendid  and  neat  m  ali  her 
cabin  arrangements.  The  mates  were  polite>  and  the 
sailors  appeared  neat  and  happy.  Even  the  blfM^k  cook 
showed  his  beautiful  white  teeth,  as  though  ho  was  glad 
to  see  one  of  the  ladies  of  Italy.  Poor  fellows  I  Little 
did  they  know  at  that  time  what  peril  I  was  in  should  I 
be  found  out  and  taken  back  to  my  dungeon  again.  I 
informed  the  captain  of  my  situation,  of  having  just  es- 
caped from  a  convent  into  which  I  had  been  forced 
against  my  wilL  I  told  him  I  would  pay  him  my  passage 
to  America,  if  he  would  hide  me  somewhere  until  the  ship 
was  well  out  to  sea.  He  said  I  had  oome  just  in  time, 
for  he  was  only  waiting  for  a  fair  wind).«id  hoped  to  be 


324 


APPENDIX, 


^' ■!'!'';?: 


■;H 


ii  Lii 


off  that  evening.  '  I  have/'  said  he,  "  a  large  number  of 
bread-casks  on  board,  and  two  are  empty.  I  shall  have 
you  put  into  one  of  these,  in  which  I  shall  make  augur- 
holes,  so  that  you  can  have  plenty  of  fresh  air.  Down  in 
the  hold  amongst  the  provisions  you  will  be  safe."  I 
thanked  my  kind  friend  and  requ  .sted  him  to  buy  me 
some  needles,  silk,  and  cotton  thread,  and  some  stuff  for  a 
couple  of  dresses,  and  one  piece  of  fine  cotton,  so  that  I 
might  make  myself  comfortable  during  the  voyage. 

After  I  ate  my  dinner,  the  men  called  the  captain  and 
suid  there  were  several  boats  full  of  soldiers  coming  to 
the  ship,  accompanied  by  the  priests.  **Lady,"  ex- 
claimed the  captain,  "  they  are  after  you.  There  is  not 
a  moment  to  be  lost.  Follow  me,"  he  continued.  ^<And, 
Mr.  Smith,  tell  the  men  to  be  careful  and  not  make  known 
that  there  is  a  lady  on  board." 

An  awful  cold  chill  ran  over  me.  I  followed  my  friend 
quickly,  and  soon  found  myself  coiled  in  a  large  cask. 
The  captain  coopered  the  head,  which  was  missing,  and 
made  holes  for  me  to  get  the  air ;  but  the  perspiration 
ran  off  my  face  in  a  stream.  Lots  of  things  were  piled 
on  the  cask,  so  ^hat  I  had  hard  work  to  breathe ;  but  such 
was  my  fear  of  the  priests  that  I  would  rather  have  per- 
ished in  the  cask  than  be  returned  to  die  by  inches. 

The  captain  had  been  gone  but  a  short  time  when  I 
heard  steps  on  deck,  and  much  noise  and  confusion.  As 
the  hatches  were  open,  I  could  hear  very  distinctly.  After 
the  whole  company  were  on  deck,  the  captain  invited  the 
priests  and  friars,  about  twenty  in  n:imber,  to  walk  down 
to  the  cabin,  and  explain  the  cause  of  their  visit.  They 
talked  through  an  interpreter,  and  said  that  "  a  woman  of 
bad  character  had  robbed  one  of  the  churches  of  a  large 
amount  of  gold,  had  attempted  to  murder  one  of  the  holy 


APPENDIX. 


325 


priests,  but  thej  were  happy  to  say  that  the  holy  father, 
though  badly  wounded,  was  in  a  faur  way  of  recovery. 
This  woman  is  young,  but  very  desperate,  has  awful  rav- 
ing fits,  ;ind  has  recently  escaped  from  a  lunatic  institu- 
tion. Yihen  her  fits  of  madness  come  on  they  are  obliged 
to  put  b'^r  into  a  straight  jacket,  for  she  is  the  most  dan- 
gerous pt  rson  in  Italy.  A  great  reward  is  offered  for  her 
by  her  father  and  the  government— five  thousand  scudi. 
Is  not  this  enough  to  tempt  one  to  help  find  her  ?  She 
was  seen  coming  towards  the  shipping,  and  we  want  the 
privilege  of  eearching  your  ship." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  captain,  ^<  I  do  not  know  that  the 
Italian  authorities  have  any  right  to  search  an  American 
ship,  under  the  stars  and  stripes  of  the  United  States,  for 
we  do  not  allow  even  the  greatest  naval  power  on  earth 
to  do  that  thing.  But  if  such  a  mad  and  dangerous  woman 
as  you  have  described  should  by  any  means  have  smug- 
gled herself  on  board  my  ship,  you  are  quite  welcome  to 
take  her  away  as  soon  as  possible,  for  I  should  be  afraid 
of  my  life  if  I  was  within  one  hundred  yards  of  such  an 
uafortunate  creature.  If  you  can  get  her  into  your  luna- 
tic asylum,  the  quicker  the  better ;  and  the  five  thousand 
scudi  will  come  in  good  time,  for  I  am  thinking  of  build- 
ing me  a  larger  ship  on  my  return  home.  Now,  gentle- 
men, come ;  I  will  assi'^.t  you,  for  I  should  like  to  see  the 
gold  in  my  pocket"  The  captain  opened  all  his  closets 
and  secret  places,  in  the  cabin  and  forecastle  and  in  the 
hold ;  everything  was  searched,  al'  but  the  identical  bread- 
cask  in  which  I  was  snugly  coiled. 

After  something  like  half  an  hour's  search,  the  soldiers 

of  King  Ferdinand  and  the  priests  of  King  Pope  left 

the  ship,  satisfied  that  the  crazy  nun  was  no^  on  board ; 

for,  judging  the  captain  by  themselves,  theysthought  he 

28 


326 


▲PFERDIX. 


}ni 


^1' 


(ji'  ! 


•>m 


certainlj  would  hav^  given  up  a  mad  womaa  for  the  take 
of  five  thousand  sc.  ^*  in  gold,  and  for  the  safety  of  his 
own  peace  and  comi  .  A  few  moments  after  the  Pope's 
friends  had  left, the  euielient  benevolent  captain  came  down, 
and  speedily  and  gently  knocking  off  a  few  hoopa  with  a 
hammer,  to^  the  head  out,  and  I  wa^  firee  once  aHore  to 
breathe  God's  free  air.  I  lifted  my  trembling  heart  in 
thanksgiving,  while  tears  of  gratitude  rolled  down  my 
cheeks.  Yet,  as  we  Were  still  within  the  reach  <^  the  guns 
of  the  papal  forts,  my  heart  was  by  no  means  at  rest. 
But  the  good  capbvin  assured  me  repeatedly  that  all  dan- 
ger was  past,  for  he  had  twenty-five  men  on  board,  all  true 
Protestants,  and  he  declared  that  all  the  priests  of  Naples 
would  walk  over  their  dead  bodies  before  they  should 
reach  his  vessel  a  second  time.  *^  And  besides,"  said  the 
oaptain,  **  there  are  two  American  men-of-war  in  port,  who 
will  stand  up  for  the  rights  of  Americans.  They  have 
not  yet  forgotten  Captain  Jngraham,  of  the  United  States 
ship  St.  Louis,  and  his  rescue  from  the  Austrian  papists 
of  the  Hungarian  patriot,  Martin  Kozsta."  The  captain 
wisely  refused  to  purehase  any  needles  or  thread  for  me 
on  shores  or  any  articles  of  ladies'  dress,  for  fear  of  the 
Jesuitical  spies,  who  might  surmise  something  and  cause 
further  trouble.  But  he  kindly  furnished  me  with  some 
goods  he  had  purehased  for  his  own  wife,  and  there  were 
needles  and  silk  enough  on  board,  so  that  I  soon  cut  and 
made  a  few  articles  that  made  me  very  comfortable  during 
our  voyage  of  thirty-two  days  to  London^ 

Early  the  next  morning  we  sailed  out  of  the  beautiful 
harbor  of  Naples^  with  a  fair  wind.  The  beautiful  ship 
seemed  to  fiy  over  the  blue  sea.  I  staid  on  deck  gazing 
at  my  native  city  as  long  as  I  could.  I  thought  then  of 
my  once  happy  hcnaie^  of  my  poor,  brdken-hearted  mother. 


APPENDIX. 


827 


of  my  unhappy  father.  Although  he  had  cast  me  off 
through  the  foul  plaj  of  Jesuitical  intrigue,  my  love  for 
my  dear  father  remained  the  same.  "  Farewell,  my  dear 
Italy,"  I  said  to  myself.  **  When,  my  poor  native  land, 
wilt  thou  be  happy?  Never,  never,  so  long  as  the  Pope 
lives,  and  his  wicked,  murderous  priests,  to  curse  thee  by 
their  power.** 

After  we  got  out  into  the  open  sea,  the  motion  of  the 
ahip  made  me  feel  rexy  sick,  and  I  was  so  starved  out 
before  I  came  on  board,  that  what  good  provisions  I  ate 
on  board  did  not  seem  to  agree  with  me.  My  stomach 
was  in  a  very  bad  state,  lor  while  I  was  in  the  lower 
regions  of  the  convent  I  ate  only  a  sm«ll  quanti^ 
of  very  stale  hard  bread  once  in  twenty-four  Lu^jSf  at  the 
ringing  of  the  vesper  beUs  every  evening,  and  the  water 
^ven  me  was  that  in  which  the  holy  Mother  Abbess  had 
washed  her  sacred  feet.  But  I  must  give  the  hdy 
mother  credit  for  one  good  amission  -^  she  did  not  use 
any  sof^[>. 

The  captain  gave  me  a  good  state-room  which  I  occu- 
pied with  an  English  lady  passenger.  This  good  lady  was 
accustomed  to  the  sea,  therefore,  she  did  not  suffer  any 
inconvenience  from  sea-sickness ;  but  I  was  very  sick,  so 
that  I  kept  my  berth  for  five  days.  This  good  Protestant 
lady  was  very  kind  and  attentive  durin£  the  whole  pas- 
sage, and  kindly  assisted  me  in  getting  my  garments  made 
up  on  board.  On  our  arrival  in  London,  the  captain  said 
that  he  would  sail  for  America  in  two  weeks  time,  and 
very  kindly  offered  me  a  free  passage  lo  his  happy,  native 
land ;  and  I  could  not  persuade  him  to  take  any  money 
for  my  passage  from  Naples,  nor  for  the  clothing  he  had 
given  me. 

My  fellow  passenger  being  wealthy,  and  well  acquainted 


328 


APPENDIX. 


il!     ■Mr!! 


with  people  in  England,  took  me  to  her  splendid  home,  a 
few  miles  from  London.  At  her  residence  I  was  intro- 
duced to  a  young  French  gentleman,  a  member  of  the 
Evangelical  protestant  church  in  France,  and  a  descend- 
ant of  the  pious  persecuted  Huguenots.  This  gentleman 
speaks  good  English  and  Italian,  haviiig  enjoyed  the  priv- 
ilege of  a  superior  education.  His  fervent  prayers  at  the 
family  altar  morning  and  evening  made  r.  very  deep  im- 
pression on  my  mind.  He  became  deeply  interested  in 
my  history,  and  offered  to  take  me  to  France,  after  I 
should  become  his  lawful  wife. 

Though  I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  choosing  another 
popish  country,  for  my  residence,  yet  as  my  friend  assured 
me  that  I  should  enjoy  my  protestant  religion  unmolested, 
I  gave  him  my  hand  and  my  heart  My  lady  fellow  pas- 
iB^ger  was  my  bridesmaid.  We  were  married  by  a  good 
protestant  minister.  My  husband  is  a  wealthy  merchant 
—  gives  me  means  and  opportunities  for  doing  good. 
Home  is  precious  in  a  foreign  land.  Our  home  is  one  of 
piety  and  peace  and  happiness.  The  blessed  Bible  is  read 
by  us  every  day.  Morning  and  evening  we  sing  God's 
praise,  and  call  upon  the  nujae  of  the  Lord.  Our  prayer 
is  that  God  may  deliver  beloved  France  and  Italy  from 
the  curse  of  popery." 

Another  proof  of  the  persecuting  spirit  of  Rome  is  fur- 
nished by  the  **  Narrative  of  Raffaele  Ciocci,  formerly  a 
Benedictine  Monk,  but  who  now  *  comes  forth  from  Inqui- 
sitorial search  and  torture,  and  tells  us  what  he  has  seen, 
heard  and  felt.' "  We  can  make  but  a  few  extracts  from 
this  interesting  little  volume,  published  by  the  American 
arid  Foreign  Christian  Union,  who, — to  use  their  own 
language  —  ''send  it  forth  as  a  voice  of  instruction  and 
w&ming  to  the  American  people.    Let  the  facts  be  heard 


APPENDIX. 


829 


and  read.  They  are  not  to  be  set  aside  by  an  apology  for 
the  dark  ages,  nor  an  appeal  to  the  refinement  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Here  is  Borne,  not  as  she  wtu  in  the 
midnight  of  the  world,  but  as  she  i$  at  the  present  mo- 
ment There  is  the  same  opposition  to  private  judgment 
•^  the  same  coercive  measures  •—  the  same  cruel  persecu- 
tion—  the  same  efforts  to  crush  the  civil  and  religious  lib- 
erties of  her  own  subjects,  for  which  she  has  ever  been 
characterized." 

Ciooci,  compelled  at  an  early  age  to  enter  the  Catholic 
College-— forced,  notwithstanding  his  deep  disgust  and 
earnest  remonstrance,  to  become  a  monk— imprisoned-* 
deceived-— the  victim  of  priestly  artifice  and  fraud,  at 
length  becomes  a  Christian.  He  is  of  course  thrown  into 
a  deeper  dungeon^  and  more  exquisite  anguish  inflicted 
upon  him  that  he  may  be  constrained  to  return  to  the 
Romish  faith.  Of  his  imprisonment  he  says,  **  We  trav- 
ersed long  corridors  till  we  arrived  at  the  door  of  aa 
apartment  which  they  requested  me  to  enter,  and  they 
themselves  retired.  On  opening  the  door  I  found  myself 
in  a  close  dark  room,  barely  large  enough  for  the  little 
furniture  it  contained,  which  consisted  of  a  small  hard 
bed,  hard  as  the  conscience  of  an  inquisitor,  a  little  table 
cut  all  over,  and  a  dirty  ill-used  chair.  The  window 
which  was  shut  and  barred  with  iron  resisted  all  my 
efforts  to  open  it  My  heart  sunk  within  me,  and  I  began 
to  co^tate  on  the  destiny  in  store  for  me."  The  Jesuit 
Giuliani  entering  his  room,  he  asked  that  the  window 
might  be  opened  for  the  admission  of  light  and  air. 
Before  the  words  were  finished  he  exclaimed  in  a  voice 
of  thunder,  <<  How  I  wretched  youth,  thou  complainest  of 
the  dark,  wiilst  thou  art  living  in  the  clouds  of  error? 
28* 


W'l 

J 

fwmt 

fill 

1    f.  . 

i 

:  »  : 
.,'1 

'J* 

tU     ii< 


si 


'r  I: 


330 


APPENDIX. 


Dost  (liou  desire  the  light  of  heaven,  while  thoU  rcjoctcst 
the  li;;htof  the  Catholic  faith?" 

Ciocci  saw  that  remonstrance  was  useless,  but  h(> 
remiiuled  his  jailer  that  he  had  been  sent  there  for  three 
days,  to  receive  instruction,  not  to  be  treated  as  a  criminal. 

"  For  three  days,"  he  resumed,  couoterfeiting  my  tone 
of  voice,  **  for  three  days!  That  would  be  nothing.  The 
dainty  youth  will  not  forsooth,  be  roughly  treated ;  it  re- 
mains  to  be  seen  whether  he  desires  to  be  courteously 
entertained.  Be  converted,  be  converted,  condemned 
soul  I  Fortunate  is  it  for  thee  that  thou  art  come  to  this 
place.  Thou  vnU  never  quit  it  excepting  with  the  real 
fruits  of  repentance !  Among  these  silent  shades  canst 
thou  meditate  at  thy  leisure  upon  the  deplorable  state  into 
which  thou  hast  fallen.  Woe  unto  thee,  if  thou  refueest  to 
listen  to  the  voice  of  God,  who  conducts  souls  into  solitude 
that  he  may  speak  with  them."  '<  So  saying,"  he  continues, 
"  he  abruptly  left  me.  I  remained  alone  drooping  under 
the  weight  of  a  misfortune,  which  was  the  more  severe,  be- 
cause totally  unexpected.  I  stood,  I  know  not  how  long,  in 
the  same  position,  but  on  recovering  from  this  lethargy,  my 
first  idea  was  of  flight.  But  this  thought  was  at  once  aban- 
doned. There  was  no  possibility  of  flight.  Without  giv- 
ing a  minute  account  of  the  manner  in  which  I  passed  my 
wearisome  days  and  nights  in  this  prison,  let  it  suffice  to 
say  that  they  were  spent  in  listening  to  sermons  preached 
to  me  four  times  a  day  by  the  fathers  Giuliani  and  Bos- 
sini,  and  in  the  most  gloomy  reflections. 

^  In  the  mean  time  the  miseries  I  endured  were  aggra- 
vated by  the  heat  of  the  season,  the  wretchedness  of  the 
chamber,  scantiness  of  food,  and  the  rough  severity  of 
those  by  whom  I  was  occasionally  visited.    Uncertainty 


AfPRNDTX. 


83t 


e  ihoU  rcjoctcfit 


as  to  when  this  imprisonment  would  be  at  an  end,  almost 
drove  me  wild,  and  the  first  words  I  addressed  to  those 
who  approached  me  were, '  Have  the  kindness  to  tell  me 
when  I  shall  be  permitted  to  leave  this  place  ? '  One 
replied, '  My  son,  think  of  hell.'  I  interrogated  another; 
the  answer  was,  *  Think  my  son,  how  terrible  is  the  death 
of  the  sinner ! '  I  spoke  to  a  third,  to  a  fourth,  and  one 
said  to  me,  *  My  son,  what  will  be  your  feeling,  if,  on  the 
day  of  judgment  you  find  yourself  on  the  left  hand  of 
God  ? '  the  other,  *  Paradise,  my  son.  Paradise ! '  No 
one  gave  me  a  direct  answer ;  their  object  appeared  to 
be  to  mistify  and  confound  me.  After  the  first  few  days, 
I  began  to  feel  most  severely  the  want  of  a  change  of 
clothing,  -li^^stomed  to  cleanliness,  I  found  myself  con- 
strained to  wear  soiled  apparel.  *  *  *  For  the  want 
of  a  comb,  my  hair  became  rough  and  entangled.  Afler 
the  fourth  day  my  portion  of  food  was  diminisired ;  a  sign, 
that  they  were  pressing  the  siege,  that  it  was  their  inten- 
tion  to  adopt  both  assault  and  blockade  —  to  conquer  me 
by  arms,  or  induce  me  to  capitulate '  through  hunger.  I 
had  been  shut  up  in  this  wretched  place  for  thirteen  days, 
when,  one  day,  about  noon,  the  Father  Mislei,  the  author 
of  all  my  misery,  entered  my  cell. 

"  At  the  sight  of  this  man,  resentment  overcame  every 
other  consideration,  and  I  advanced  towards  him  fully 
prepared  to  indulge  my  feelings,  when  he,  with  his  usual 
smile,  expressed  in  bland  words  his  deep  regret  at  having 
been  the  cause  of  my  long  detention  in  this  retreat. 
*  Never  could  I  have  supposed,'  said  he,*  that  my  anxiety 
for  the  salvation  of  your  soul  would  have  brought  you 
into  so  much  tribulation.  But  rest  assured  the  fault  is  not 
entirely  mine.  You  have  yourself,  in  a  great  degree,  by 
your  useless  obstinacy,  been  the  cause  of  your  sufferings. 


332 


APPENDIX. 


Ah,  well,  we  will  yet  remedy  all.'  Not  feeling  any  confi- 
dence in  his  assurance,  I  burst  out  into  bitter  invectives 
and  fierce  words.  He  then  renewed  his  protestations,  and 
clothed  them  with  such  a  semblance  of  honesty  and  truth, 
that  when  he  ended  with  this  tender  conclusion,  *  Be  as- 
sured, my  son,  that  I  love  you,'  my  anger  vanished.  *  *  * 
I  lost  sight  of  the  Jesuit,  and  thought  t  was  addressing  a 
man,  a  being  ci4)able  of  sympathising  in  the  distresses  of 
others.  *  Ah,  well,  father,'  said  I,  *  I  need  some  one  on 
whom  I  can  rely,  some  one  towards  ilhom  I  can  feel 
kindly ;  I  will  therefore  place  confidence  in  your  words.' " 
After  some  further  conversation,  Ciocci  was  asked  if  he 
wished  to  leave  that  place.  "  If  I  desire  it  1 "  he  replied, 
**  what  a  strange  question  I  You  might  as  well  ask  a  con- 
demned soul  whether  he  desires  to  escape  from  hell  1 " 
At  these  words  the  Jesuit  started  like  a  goaded  animal, 
and,  forgetting  his  mission  of  deceiver,  with  knit  brows 
and  compressed  lips,  he  allowed  his  ferocious  soul  for  one 
moment  to  appear ;  but,  having  grown  old  in  deceit,  he 
immediately  had  the  circumspection  to  give  this  move- 
ment of  rage  the  appearance  of  religious  teal,  and  ex- 
claimed, "What  comparisons  are  these?  Are  you  not 
ashamed  to  assume  the  language  of  the  Atheist?  By 
speaking  in  this  way  you  clearly  manifest  how  little  you 
deserve  to  leave  this  place.  But  since  I  have  told  you 
that  I  love  you,  I  will  give  you  a  proof  of  it  b/  thinking 
no  more  of  those  irreligious  expressions ;  they  shall  be 
forgotten  as  though  they  had  never  been  spoken.  Well, 
the  Cardinal  proposes  to  you  an  easy  way  of  returning  to 
your  monastery."  <*  What  does  be  propose?  "  ^  Here  is 
the  way,"  said  he,  presenting  me  with  a  paper :  "  copy  this 
with  your  own  hand ;  nothing  more  will  be  required  of 
you."    ^  I  took  the  paper  with  convulsive  eagerness.    It 


APPENDIX. 


S33 


was  a  recantation  of  my  faith,  there  condemned  as  errone- 
ous. •  •  •  •  Upon  reading  this,  I  shuddered,  and, 
starting  to  my  feet,  in  a  solemn  attitude  and  with  a  firm 
voice,  exclaimed,  '  Kill  me,  if  you  please ;  my  life  is  in 
your  power ;  but  never  will  I  subscribe  to  that  iniquitous 
formulary.'  The  Jesuit,  after  laboring  in  vain  to  persuade 
me  to  his  wishes,  went  away  in  anger.  I  now  momenta- 
rily expected  to  be  conducted  to  the  torture.  Whenever 
I  was  taken  fVom  my  room  to  the  chapel,  I  feared  lest 
some  trap-door  should  open  beneath  my  feet,  and  therefore 
took  great  care  to  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  the  Jesuit  who 
preceded  me.  No  one  acquainted  with  the  Inquisition 
will  say  that  my  precaution  was  needless.  My  imagina- 
tion was  so  filled  with  the  horrors  of  this  place,  that  even  in 
my  short,  interrupted,  and  feverish  dreams  I  beheld  dag- 
gers and  axes  glittering  around  me ;  I  heard  the  noise  of 
wheels,  saw  burning  piles  and  heated  irons,  and  woke  in 
convulsive  terror,  onl^  to  give  myself  up  to  gloomy  reflec- 
tions, inspired  by  the  reality  of  my  situation,  and  the  im- 
pressions lefl  by  these  nocturnal  visions.  What  tears  did 
I  shed  in  those  dreary  moments  I  How  innumerable  were 
the  bitter  wounds  that  lacerated  my  heart  I  My  prayers 
seemed  to  me  unworthy  to  be  received  by  a  God  of  charity, 
because,  notwithstanding  all  my  efforts  to  banish  from  vy 
soul  every  feeling  of  resentment  towards  my  persecutors, 
hatred  returned  with  redoubled  power.  I  oflen  repeated 
the  words  of  Christ,  *  Father,  forgive  them,  they  know 
not  what  they  do ;  *  but  immediately  a  voice  wculd  answer* 
*  This  prayer  is  not  intended  for  the  Jesuits ;  they  resem- 
ble not  the  crucifiers,  who  were  blind  instruments  of  the 
rage  of  the  Jews ;  while  these  men  are  fully  conscious  of 
what  they  are  doing;  they  are  the  modem  Pharisees.* 
The  reading  of  the  Bible  would  have  afforded  me  great 
consolation,  but  this  was  denied  me."    •    •    *    ♦ 


!  <3!i 


■(     't( 


334 


APPENDIX. 


M:^n 


'I  V  'I'j 


The  fourteenth  day  of  hia  imprisonment  be  was  taken 
to  the  council  to  hear  his  sentenee,  when  he  was  again 
urged  to  sign  the  fi>rm  <^  recantation.  But  he  refused. 
The  Father  Rossini  then  spoke :  **  You  are  decided ;  let 
it  be,  then,  as  you  deserve.  Bebellious  eon  of  the  church, 
in  the  fuUness  of  the  power  which  she  has  received  from 
Christ,  you  shall  feel  the  holy  rigor  of  be**  laws.  She 
cannot  permit  tares  to  grow  with  the  good  seed*  She 
cannot  suffer  you  to  remain  among  her  sons  and  become 
the  stumbling-block  for  the  ruin  of  many.  Abandon, 
therefore,  all  hope  of  leaving  this  place,  and  of  returning 
to  dwell  among  the  faithful.  JKhoWy  all  is  ^wished  for 
you!" 

For  the  conclusion  of  this  narrative  we  refer  the  reader 
to  the  volume  itself. 

If  any  more  evidence  were  needed  to  show  that  the 
spirit  of  Bomanism  is  the  same  to-day  that  it  has  ever 
been,  we  find  it  in  the  account  of  a  legal  prosecution 
against  ten  Christians  at  Beldac,  in  France,  for  holding 
and  attending  a  public  worship  not  licensed  by  the  civil 
authority.  They  had  made  repeated,  respectful,  and 
earnest  applications  to  the  prefect  of  the  department  of 
Ilaute-Vienne  for  the  authorization  required  by  law,  and 
which,  in  their  case,  ought  to  have  been  given.  It  was 
flatly  refused.  They  persisted  in  rendering  to  God  that 
worship  which  his  own  command  and  their  consciences 
required.  For  this  they  were  arraigned  as  above  stated, 
on  the  10th  of  August,  1855.  On  the  26th  of  January, 
1856,  the  case  was  decided  by  the  "  tribunal,"  and  the 
three  pastors  and  one  lady,  a  schoolmistress,  were  con- 
demned to  pay  a  fine  of  one  thousand  francs  each,  and 
some  of  the  others  five  hundred  francs  each,  the  whole 
amount,  together  with  legal  expeoditures,  exceeding  the 
sum  of  nine  thousand  francs. 


APPmDiX* 


335 


M^mtSme,  the  oonirerts  continue  to  hold  their  wotship^ 
meetings  in  the  woods,  bftnis,  and  secret  places,  in  order 
not  to  be  surprised  by  the  police  conunissioner,  and  to 
avoid  new  cffidal  reports. 

*Thu8,  yea  see,**  says  V.  tte  Pressense,  in  a  letter  to 
Hie  ^American  and  Poreign  Christian  Union/  <<tfaat  we  are 
brought  back  to  the  religious  meetings  of  the  desert,  when 
the  Protestants  of  the  Cevennes  evinced  such  persevering 
fidelity.  The  only  diffei^nce  is,  that  these  Christians 
belonged  only  a  short  time  ago  to  that  church  which  is 
now  instigating  persecationd  against  them." 


i  r^er  the  reader 


DESTBUOTION  OF  THE  INQUISITION  IN  SPAIN. 

In  1809,  OoL  Lehmanowsky  wa6  atteched  to  the  part 
of  Napoleon's  army  which  was  stationed  in  Ma^d. 
^  While  in  that  city,**  said  Ool.  L.,  *<  I  used  to  speak  freely 
among  the  people  what  I  thought  of  the  Priests  and  Jes- 
uits, and  of  the  Inquisition.  It  had  been  decreed  by  the 
Emperor  Napoleon  that  the  Inquisition  and  the  Monas- 
teries should  be  suppressed,  but  the  decree,  he  said,  like 
some  of  the  laws  enacted  in  this  country,  was  not  executed. 

Months  had  passed  away,  and  the  prisons  of  the  Inqui* 
sition  had  not  been  opened.  One  night,  about  ten  or 
eleven  o*clock,  as  he  was  walking  one  of  the  streets  <£ 
Madrid,  two  armed  men  iq^rang  upon  him  from  an  alley, 
and  made  a  Aiiious  attack.  He  instantly  drew  his  sword, 
put  himself  in  a  posture  of  def^ice,  and  while  struggling 
With  them,  he  taW  at  a  distance  the  lights  oi  the  patrols, 
-^French  soldiers  mounted,  who  carried  lant^ns,  and  who 
rode  through  the  streets  of  the  city  at  fdl  hours  of  the 
flight,  to  preserve  order.  He  <»lled  to  them  in  French, 
and  its  they  hastened  to  his  assistaaee,  the  assailaiits  took 


336 


APPENDIX. 


to  their  heels  and  escaped ;  not,  however,  before  he  saw 
by  their  dress  that  they  belonged  to  the  guards  of  the 
Inquisition. 

He  went  immediately  to  Marshal  Soult,  then  Grovernor 
of  Madrid,  told  him  what  had  taken  place,  and  reminded 
him  of  the  decree  to  suppress  this  institution.  Marshal 
Soult  told  him  that  he  might  go  and  suppress  it.  The 
Colonel  said  that  his  regiment  (the  9th  of  the  Polish  Lan- 
cers,) was  not  sufficient  for  such  a  service,  but  if  he  would 
give  him  two  additional  regiments,  the  117th,  and  another 
which  he  named,  he  would  undertake  the  work.  The 
117th  regiment  was  under  the  command  of  Col.  De  Lile, 
who  is  now,  like  Col.  L.,  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  and 
pastor  of  an  evangelical  church  in  Marseilles,  France. 
*'  The  troops  required  were  granted,  and  I  proceeded," 
said  Col.  L.,  "  to  the  Inquisition  which  was  situated  about 
five  miles  from  the  city.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  wall  of 
great  strength,  and  defended  by  a  company  of  soldiers. 
When  we  arrived  at  the  walls,  I  addressed  one  of  the 
sentinels,  and  summoned  the  holy  fathers  to  surrender  to 
the  Imperial  army,  and  open  the  gates  of  the  Inquisition. 
The  sentinel  who  was  standing  on  the  wall,  appeared  to 
enter  into  conversation  with  some  one  within,  at  tl|e  clooti 
of  which  he  presented  his  musket,  and  shot  one  of  my 
men.  This  was  the  signal  of  attack,  and  I  ordered  my 
troops  to  fire  upon  those  who  appeared  on  the  walls. 

It  was  soon  obviona  that  it  was  an  unequal  warfare. 
The  soldiers  of  the  holy  office  were  partially  protected  by 
a  breast^work  upon  the  walls  which  were  covered  with 
soldiers,  while  our  troops  were  in  the  open  plain,  and  ex- 
posed to  a  destructive  fire.  We  had  no  cannon,  nor  could 
we  scale  the  walls,  and  the  gates  successfully  resisted  all 
attempts  at  forcing  them.    I  could  not  retire  and  send  for 


APPENDIX. 


837 


cannon  to  break  through  the  walls  without  giving  them 
time  to  lay  a  train  for  bloWing  us  up.  I  saw  that  it  was 
necessary  to  change  the  mode  of  attack,  and  directed 
some  trees  to  be  cut  down  and  trimmed,  to  be  used  as 
battering  rams.  Two  of  these  were  taken  up  by  detach- 
ments of  men,  as  numerous  as  could  work  to  advantage, 
and  brought  to  bear  upon  the  walls  with  all  the  power 
they  could  exert,  while  the  troops  kept  up  a  fire  to  protect 
them  from  the  fire  poured  upon  them  from  the  walls. 
Presently  the  walls  began  to  tremble,  a  breach  was  made, 
and  the  Imperial  troops  rushed  into  the  Inquisition.  Here 
we  met  with  an  incident,  which  nothing  but  Jes^-iitical 
effrontery  is  equal  to.  The  Inquisitor  Greneral,  followed 
by  the  father  confessors  in  tLeir  priestly  robes,  all  came 
out  of  their  rooms,  as  we  were  making  our  way  into  the 
interior  of  the  Inquisition,  and  with  long  fa6es,  and  arms 
crossed  over  their  breasts,  their  fingers  resting  on  their 
shoulders,  as  though  they  had  been  deaf  to  all  the  noise 
of  the  attack  and  defence,  and  had  just  learned  what  was 
going  on,  they  addressed  themselves  in  the  language  of 
rebuke  to  their  own  'soldiers,  saying,  "  Why  do  you  Jlght 
ourfriendsj  the  French  f  " 

Their  intention,  no  doubt,  was  to  make  us  think  that 
this  defence  was  wholly  unauthorized  hy  them,  hoping,  if 
they  could  make  us  believe  that  they  were  friendly,  they 
should  have  a  better  opportunity,  in  the  confusion  of  the 
moment,  tor  Sscape.  Their  artifice  wa3  too  shallow,  and 
did  not  succeed.  I  caused  them  to  be  placed  under  guard, 
and  all  the'  soldiers  of  the  Inquisition  to  be  secured  aa 
prisoners.  We  then  proceeded  to  examine  all  the  rooms 
of  the  stately  edifice.  We  passed  through  room  after 
room ;  found  all  perfectly  in  order,  richly  furnished,  with 
altars  and  crucifixes,  and  wax  candles  in  abundance,  but 

29 


Wmh 


338 


APPENDIX. 


ji'l 


we  could  discover  no  evidences  of  iniquity  being  practiced 
there,  nothing  of  those  peculiar  features  which  we  expect- 
ed to  find  in  an  Inquisition.  We  found  splendid  paintings, 
and  a  rich  and  extensive  library.  Here  was  beauty  and 
splendor,  and  the  most  perftct  order  on  which  my  eyes 
had  ever  rested.  The  archii  xture,  the  proportions  were 
perfect.  The  ceilings  and  floors  of  ^wood  were  scoured 
and  highly  polished.  The  marble  floors  were  aii-anged 
with  a  strict  regard  to  order.  There  was  everything  to 
please  the  eye  and  gratify  a  cultivated  tadte ;  but  where 
were  those  horrid  instruments  of  torture,  of  which  we  had 
been  told,  and  where  those  dungeons  in  which  human 
beings  were  said  to  be  buried  alive?  We  searched  in 
vain.  The  holy  father  assured  us  that  they  had  been  be* 
lied ;  that  we  bad  seen  all ;  and  I  was  prepared  to  give 
up  the  search,  convinced  that  this  Inquisition  was  different 
from  others  of  which  I  had  heard. 

But  Col.  De  Lile  was  not  so  ready  as  myself  to  give  up 
the  search,  and  said  to  me,  *^  Colonel,  you  are  commander 
to-day,  and  as  you  say,  so  it  must  be ;  but  if  you  will  be 
advised  by  me,  let  this  marble  floor  be  examined.  Let 
water  be  brought  and  poured  upon  it,  and  we  will  watch 
and  see  if  there  is  any  place  through  which  it  passes 
more  freely  than  others."  I  replied  to  him,  "  Do  as  you 
please,  Colonel,"  and  ordered  water  to  be  brought  accord- 
ingly. The  slabs  of  marble  were  large  and  beautifully 
polished.  When  the  water  had  been  poifred  over  the 
floor,  much  to  the  dissatisfaction  of  the  inquisitors,  a  care- 
fiil  examination  was  made  of  every  seam  in  tbe  floor,  to 
see  if  the  water  passed  through.  Presently  Col.  De  Lile 
exclaimed  that  he  had  found  it.  By  the  side  of  one  of 
these  marble  slabs  the  water  passed  through  fast,  as  though 
there  was  an  opening  beneath.    All  hands  were*now  at 


APPENDIX. 


339 


work  fop  further  discovery  j  tlie  officers  with  their  swords 
<md  the  soldiei's  with  their  bayonets,  seeking  to  clear  out 
the  seam,  and  pry  up  the  slab ;  others  with  the  butts  of 
their  muskets  striking  the  slab  with  all  their  might  to 
break  it^  while  the  priests  remonstrated  against  our  dese- 
crating their  holy  and  beautiful  house.  While  thus  en- 
gaged, a  soldier,  who  was  striking  with  the  butt  of 
his  muf>ket,  struck  a  spring,  and  the  marble  slab  flew 
up.  Then  the  faces  of  the  inquisitors  grew  pale  as  Bel- 
shazzar  when  the  hand  writing  appeared  on  the  wall ; 
they  trembled  all  over;  beneath  the  marble  slab,  now 
partly  up,  there  was  a  stair-case.  I  stepped  to  the  altar, 
and  took  from  the  candlestick  one  of  the  candles  four  feet 
in  length,  which  was  burning  that  1  might  explore  the 
room  below.  As  I  was  doing  this,  I  was  arrested  by  one 
of  the  inquisitors,  who  laid  his  hand  gently  on  my  arm,  ■ 
and  with  a  Very  demure  and  holy  look  said  *^  My  son,  you 
must  not  take  those  lights  with  your  bloody  hands  they 
are  holy.'*  "^^Well,"  said^  I,  «I  will  take  a  holy  thing  to 
shed  light  on  iniquity ;  I  will  bear  the  responsibility/*  I 
took  the  candle,  and  proceeded  down  the  stair-case.  As 
we  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  we  entered  a  large  room 
which  was  called  the  hall  of  judgment  In  the  centre  of 
it  was  a  large  block,  and  a  chain  fastened  to  it.  On  this 
they  were  accustomed  to  place  the  accused,  chained  to  his 
seat.  On  one  side  of  the  room  was  an  elevated  seat  called 
the  Throne  of  Judgment.  This,  the  Inquisitor  General 
occupied,  and  on  either  side  were  seats  less  elevated,  for 
the  holy  fathers  when  engaged  in  the  solemn  business  of 
the  Holy  Inquisition. 

From  this  room  we  proceeded  to  the  right,  and  obtained 
access  to  small  cells  extending  the  entire  length  of  the 
edL.je ;  and  here  such  sights  were  presrated  as  we  hoped 


% 


tni ; 


M 


'« 


ii,'^:" 


*:i 


(       i. 


m,  \: 


340 


APrENDTX. 


never  to  sec  again^  These  cells  vmre  places  of  solitary 
confinement,  ^nrhere  the  wretcIieJ  objects  of  inquisitorial 
hate  were  confined  year  after  yt  ir,  till  death  released  them 
from  their  sufierings,  a-vl  their  bodies  were  suffered  to 
remain  until  they  were  entirely  decayed,  arsd  tho  rooms 
had  become  fit  for  others  to  occupy.  Tc  preverifc  this 
beinaj  offensive  to  those  who  occupied  Hie  Inquisition, 
there  were  flues  or  tubes  extending  to  the  open  air,  suffi- 
cieiitly  capacious  to  carry  off  the  odor.  In  these  <'clls  vc 
Ibimd  the  remains  of  some  who  had  paid  the  debt  of 
nature :  some  of  them  had  been  dead  apparent!)'  but  a 
short  time,  wh.'a  of  others  nothing  remained  but  their 
bones,  still  chained  to  ths  floor  uf  their  dungeon.  * 

In  others  we  fouiXi  living  sufferers  of  both  sexes  and  of 
ev^ry  age,,  froaa  three  score  years  and  ten  down  to  four- 
teen or  fifteen  years  —  all  naked  as  they  were  bom  into 
the  world !  And  all  in  chains  I  Here  were  old  men  ;md 
aged  women,  who  had  been  shut  up  for  many  yeai>s. 
Here,  too,  were  the  middle  aged,  and  the  young  man  and 
the  maiden  of  fourteen  years  old.  The  soldiers  immedi- 
fitely  went  to  work  to  release  the  captives  from  their 
chains,  and  took  from  their  knapsacks  their  overcoats  and 
other  clothing,  which  they  gave  to  cover  their  nakedness. 
They  were  exceedingly  anxious  to  bring  them  out  to  the 
light  of  day ;  but  Col.  L.,  aware  of  the  danger,  had  food 
given  them,  and  then  brought  them  gradually  to  the  light, 
as  they  were  able  to  bear  it. 

We  then  proceeded,  said  Col.  L.,  to  explore  another 
room  on  the  left;.  Here  we  found  the  instruments 
of  torture,  of  every  kind  which  the  ingenuity  of  men  or 
devils  could  invent.  Col.  L.,  here  described  four -of  these 
horrid  instruments.  The  first  was  a  machine  by  which 
the  victim  was  confined,  and  then,  beginning  with  the  fin- 


APPENDIX. 


341 


gers,  every  joint  in  the  Lands,  arms  and  bo<ly,  were  broken 
or  drawn  one  after  another,  until  the  victim  died.  The 
3(>cond  was  a  box,  in  which  the  head  and  neck  of  tlie  vic- 
f^.M  were  so  closely  confined  by  a  screw  that  ho  could  not 
vn\r  e  in  any  way.  Over  the  box  was  a  vessel,  from  which 
one  drop  of  water  a  second,  fell  upon  the  head  of  the  vic- 
tim ;  —  every  successive  drop  falling  upon  precisely  the 
same  place  on  the  head,  suspended  the  circulation  in  a  few 
moments,  and  put  the  sufferer  in  the  most  excruciating 
agony.  The  third  was  an  infernal  machine,  laid  horizon- 
t4illy,  to  which  the  victim  was  bound ;  the  machine  then 
being  placed  between  two  beams,  in  which  were  scores  of 
knives  so  fixed  that,  by  turning  the  machine  with  a  crank, 
the  flesh  of  the  sufferer  was  torn  from  his  limbs,  all  in 
small  pieces.  The  fourth  surpassed  the  others  in  fiendish 
ingenuity.  Its  exterior  was  a  beautiful  woman,  or  large 
doll,  richly  dressed,  with  arms  extended,  ready  <  to  embrace 
its  victioL  Around  her  feet  a  semi-circle  was  drawn. 
The  victim  who  passed  over  this  fatal  marie,  touched  a 
spring  which  caused  the  diabolical  engme  to, open;  its 
arms  clasped  him,  and  a  thousand  knives  cut  him  into  as 
many  pieces  in  the  deadly  embrace.  Col.  L.,  said  that 
the  sight  of  these  engines  of  infernal  cruelty  kindled  the 
rage  of  the  soldiers  to  fury.  They  declared  that  every 
inquisitor  and  soldier  of  the  inquisition  should  be  put  to 
tho  torture.  Their  rage  was  ungovernable.  Col.  L.,  did 
not  oppose  them.  They  might  have  turned  their  arms 
against  him  if  he  had  attempted  to  arrest  their  work. 
They  began  with  the  holy  fathers.  The  first  they  put  to 
death  in  the  machine  for  breaking  jointe.  The  torture  of 
the  inquisitor  put  to  death  by  the  dropPl^g  of  water  on  his 
head  was  most  excruciating.  The  poor  man  cried  out 
in  agony  to  be  taken  from  the  fatal  machine.   The  inquis* 

89* 


im. 


342 


APPENDIX. 


'J  I 


itor  general  ivas  brought  before  the  infernal  engine  called 
«  The  Virgin."  He  begged  to  be  excused.  "  No  "  said 
they,  "  you  have  caused  others  to  kiss  her,  and  now  you 
must  do  it.""  They  interlocked  their  bayonets  so  as  to 
form  large  forks,  and  with  these  pushed  him  over  the 
deadly  circle.  The  beautiful  image  instantly  prepared  for 
the  embrace,  clasped  him  in  its  arms,  and  he  was  cut  into 
innumerable  pieces.  Col.  L.  said,  &e  witnessed  the  tor- 
ture of  four  of  them — his  heart  sickened  at  the  awful 
scene— •  and  he  left  the  soldiers  to  wreak  their  vengeance 
on  the  last  guilty  inmate  of  that  prison-house  of  bell. 

In  the  mean  time  it  was  reported  through  Madrid  that 
the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition  were  broken  open,  and  mul- 
titudes hastened  to  the  fatal  spot.  And,  Oh,  what  a  meet- 
ing was  there!  It  was  like  a  resurrection  I  About  a 
hundred  who  had  been  buried  for  many  years  were  now 
restored  to  life.  There  were  fathers  who  had  found  their 
long  lost  daughters;  wives  were  restored  to  their  hus- 
bands, sisters  to  their  brothers,  parents  to  their  children ; 
and  there  were  some  who  could  recognize  no  friend  among 
the  multitude*  The  scene  was  such  as  no  tongue  can 
describe. 

When  the  multitude  had  retired.  Col.  L.  caused  the 
library,  paintings,  furniture,  etc,  to  be  removed,  and  hav- 
ing sent  to  the  city  for  a  wagon  load  of  powder^  he  deposi- 
ted a  large  quantity  in  the  vaults  beneath  the  building, 
and  placed  a  slow  match  in  connection  with  it.  All  had 
withdrawn  to  a  distance,  and  in  a  few  moments  there  was 
a  most  joyful  sight  to  thousands.  The  walls  and  turrets 
of  the  massive  sgjucture  rose  majestically  towards  the 
heavens,  impeUe^HDy  the  tremendous  explosion,  and  fell 
back  to  the  earth  an  immense  heap  of  ruins.  The  Inqui- 
sition was  no  more !  ** 


APPENDIX. 


843 


Such  is  the  account  given  by  Col.  Lehmanowsky  of  the 
destruction  of  the  inquisition  in  Spain.  Was  it  then 
finally  destroyed,  never  again  to  be  revived  ?  Listen  to 
the  testimony  of  the  Rev.  Giacinto  Achilli,  J).  D.  Surely, 
his  statements  in  this  respect' can  be  relied  upon,  for  he  is 
himself  a  convert  from  Bomanism,  and  was  formerly  the 
*<  Head  Professor  of  Theology,  and  Vicar  of  the  Master 
of  the  Sacred  Apostolic  Palace." 

He  certainly  had  every  opportunity  to  obtain  correct 
-<  information  on  the  subject,  and  in  a  book  published  by  him 
in  1851,  entitled  V  Dealings  with  the  Inquisition,"  we  find, 
(page  71)  the  following  staitling  announcement.  "We 
are  now  in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  end  still 
the  Inquisition  is  actually  and  potentially  in  existence. 
This  disgrace  to  humanity,  whose  entire  history  is  a  mass 
'<*of  atrocious  crim' s,  committed  by  the  priests  of  the 
Church  of  Some,  in  the  name  of  Grod  and  of  His  Christ, 
whose  vicar  and  representative,  the  pope,  the  head  of  the 
Inquisition,  declares  himself  to  be, — this  abominable  insti- 
tution is  still  in  existence  in  Rome  and  in  the  Roman 
States." 

Again,  (page  89)  he  says, "  And  this  most  infamous 
Inquisition,  a-  hundred  times  destroyed  and*  as  often 
renewed,  still  exists  in  Rome  as  in  the  barbarous  ages ; 
the  only  difference  b^ing  that  the  same  iniquities  are  at 
present  practiced  there  with  a  little  more  secrecy  and  cau- 
tion than  formerly,  and  this  for  the  sake  of  prudence,  that 
the  Holy  See  may  not  be  subjected  to  the  animadversions 
of  the  world  at  large."  .      - 

On  page  82  of  the  same  work  ira  find  the  following 
language.  "  I  do  not  propose  to  myself  to  speak  of  the 
Inquisition  of  times  past,  but  of  what  exists  in  Rome  at 
the  present  moment;  I  shall  therefore  assert  that  the  laws 


844 


▲PPBMDIZ. 


>^«-.x 


of  thii  inntitution  being  in  no  respect  changed,  neither 
can  the  institution  itself  be  said  tto  have  undergone  any 
alteration.  The  present  race  of  priests  who  are  now  in 
power  are  too  much  afraid  of  the  popular  indignation  to  let 
loose  all  their  inquisitorial  fury,  which  might  even  occa- 
lion  a  revolt  if  they  were  not  to  restrain  it ;  the  whole 
world,  moreover,  would  cry  out  against  them,  a  crusade 
would  be  raised  against  the  Inquisition,  and,  for  a  little 
temporary  gratification,  much  power  would  be  endangered. 
This  is  the  true  reason  why  the  severity  of  its  penalties 
is  in  some  degree  relaxed  at  the  present  time,  but  they 
still  remain  unaltered  in  its  code." 

Again  on  page  102,  he  says,  **  Ai9  the  torments 
which  are  employed  at -the  present  day  at  the  Inquisi- 
tion all  a  fiction?  It  requires  the  impudence  of  an 
inquisitor,  or  of  the  Archbishop  of  Westminister  to  deny 
their  existence.  I  have  myself  heard  these  evil-minded 
persons  lament  and  complain  that  their  victims  were 
treated  with  too  much  lenity. 

"  What  is  it  yoa  desire?"  I  inquired  of  the  inquisitor 
of  Spoleto.  "That  which  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  says,"  an- 
swered he ;  **  death  to  aU  the  hereHe$,** 

**  Hand  over,  then,  to  one  of  these  people,  a  person,  how- 
ever respectable;  give  him  up  to  one  of  the  inquisitors, 
(he  who  quoted  St  Thomas  Aquinas  to  me  was  made  an 
Archbishop) — give  up,  I  say,  the  present  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  an  amiable  and  pious  man,  to  one  of  these 
rabid  inquisitors;  he  must  either  deny  his  faith  or  be 
burned  alive.  Is  my  statement  false  ?  Am  I  doting  ?  Is 
not  this  the  spirit  that  invariably  actuates  the  inquisitors  ? 
and  not  the  inquisitors  only,  but  all  those  who  in  any  way 
defile  themselves  with  the  inquisition,  such  as  bishops  and 
their  vicars,  and  all  those  who  defend  it,  as  the  papists  do. 


APPENDIX. 


345 


There  is  the  renowned  Dr.  Wiseman,  the  Archbishop  of 
Westminster  according  to  the  pope's  creation,  the  same 
who  has  hod  the  assurance  to  censure  me  from  his  pulpit, 
and  to  publish  an  infamous  article  in  the  Duhiin  Review^ 
in  which  he  has  raked  together,  as  on  a  dunghill,  every 
species  of  filth  from  the  sons  of  Ignatius  Loyola;  and 
there  is  no  lie  or  calumny  that  he  has  not  made  use  of 
against  me.  Well,  then,  suppose  I  were  to  be  handed 
over  to  the  tender  mercy  of  Dr.  Wiseman,  and  he  had  the 
full  power  to  dispose  of  me  as  he  chose,  without  fear  of 
losing  his  chai*actor  in  the  eyes  of  the  nation  to  which,  by 
parentage  more  than  by  merit,  he  belongs,  what  do  you 
imagine  he  would  do  with  me?  Should  I  not  have  to 
undergo  some  death  more  terrible  than  ordinary  ?  Would 
not  a  council  be  held  with  the  reverend  fathers  of  the  com- 
pany of  Loyola,  the  same  who  have  suggested  the  abomin- 
able calumnies  above  alluded  to,  in  order  to  invent  some 
refined  method  of  putting  me  out  of  the  world  ?  I  feel 
persuaded  that  if  I  were  condemned  by  the  Inquisition  to 
be  burned  alive,  my  calumniator  would  have  great  pleasure 
in  building  my  funeral  pile,  and  setting  fire  to  it  with  his 
own  hanSs ;  or  should  strangulation  be  preferred,  that  he 
would,  with  equal  readiness,  arrange  the  cord  around  my 
neck ;  and  all  for  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  Inquisition, 
of  which,  according  to  his  oath,  he  is  a  true  and  faithful 
servant." 

This,  then,  according  to  Dr.  Achilli  is  the  spirit  of  Ro- 
manism !  Can  we  doubt  that  it  would  lead  to  results  as 
frightful  as  anything  described  in  the  foregoing  story  ? 

But  let  us  listen  to  his  further  remarks  on  the  present 
state  of  the  Inquisition.  On  page  75  he  says,  « What, 
then,  is  the  Inquisition  of  the  nineteenth  century  ?  The 
same  system  of  intolerance  which  prevailed  in  the  barbar^ 


'• 


846 


APPKNDIX. 


ii.lT 


ons  ages.  That  which  raised  the  Crusade  and  roused  all 
Europe  to  arms  at  the  voice  of  a  monk  *  and  of  a  hennit.t 
That  which— in  the  name  of  a  God  of  peace,  manifested 
on  earth  by  Christ,  who,  through  love  for  sinners,  gave 
himself  to  be  crucified — brought  shvpghtf^r  on  the  Albi- 
genses  and  the  Waldenses ;  filled  France  with  desolation, 
under  Domenico  di  Guzman ;  raised  in  Spain  the  funeral 
pile  and  the  scaffold,  devastating  the  fair  kingdoms  of  Gnu 
nada  and  Castile,  through  the  assistance  of  those  detestable 
monks,  Raimond  de  Pennefort,  Peter  Arbues,  and  Cardi- 
nal Forquemorda.  That,  which,  to  its  eternal  infamy, 
registers  in  the  annals  of  France  the  fatal  24th  of  August, 
and  the  5th  of  November  in  those  of  England. 

That  same  system  which  at  this  moment  flourishes  at 
Rome,  which  has  never  yet  been  either  worn  out  or  modi- 
fied, and  which  at  this  present  time,  in  the  jargon  of  the 
priests,  is  called  **  the  holy,  Roman,  universal,  apostolic 
Inquisition.  Holy,  as  the  place  where  Christ  was  cruci- 
fied is  holy ;  apostolic,  because  Judas  Iscariot  was  the  first 
inquisitor ;  Roman  and  universal,  because  from  Borne  it 
extends  over  aU  the  world.  It  is  denied  by  some  that  the 
Inquisition  which  exists  in  Rome  as  its  centre,  is  extended 
throughout  the  world  by  means  of  the  missionaries.  The 
Roman  Inquisition  and  the  Roman  Propaganda  are  in 
close  connection  with  each  other.  Every  bishop  who  is 
sent  in  partibus  infidelium,  is  an  inquisitor  charged  to  dis- 
cover, through  the  means  of  his  missionaries,  whatever  is 
said  or  done  by  others  in  reference  to  R(»ne,  with  the 
obligation  to  make  his  report  secretly.  The  Apostolic 
nuncios  are  all  inquisitors,  as  are  also  the  Apostolic  vicars. 
Here,  then,  we  see  the  Roman  Inquisition  extending  to  the 
most  remote  countries."    Again  this  sam^  writer  informs 


*  Bernard  of  Chiaravalle. 


t  Peter  the  Hermit. 


m 


APPBKDIX. 


847 


us,  (page  112,)  that  **  the  principal  object  of  the  Ihquisition 
ifl  to  possess  themselves,  by  every  means  in  their  power, 
of  the  secrets  of  every  class  of  society.  Consequently  ita 
agents  (Jesuits  and  Missionaries,)  enter  the  domestic  cir- 
cle, observe  every  motion,  listen  to  every  conversation,  and 
would,  if  possible,  become  acquainted  with  the  most  hidden 
thoughts.  It  is  in  fact,  the  police,  not  only  of  Rome,  but 
of  all  Italy ;  indeedt  it  may  he  »aid  of  the  whole  world** 

The  above  statements  of  Dr.  Achilli  are  fully  corrobo- 
rated by  the  Rev.  Wm.  H.  Rule,  of  London.  In  a  book 
published  by  him  in  1852,  entitled  "The  Brand  of  Domi- 
nic," we  find  the  following  remarks  in  relation  to  the  Inqui- 
sition of  the  present  time.  "  The  R(»nan  Inquisition  ia, 
therefore,  acknowledged  to  have  an  infinite  multitude  of 
affairs  constantly  on  hand,  which  necessitates  its  assem- 
blage thrice  every  week.  Still  there  are  criminals,  and 
criminal  processes.  The  body  of  officials  are  still  main- 
tained on  established  revenues  of  the  holy  office.  So  far 
from  any  mitigation  of  severity  or  judicial  improvement  in 
the  spirit  of  its  administration,  the  criBunal  has  now  no 
choice  of  an  advocate ;  but  (me  person,  and  he  a  servant 
of  the  Inquisition,  performs  an  idle  ceremony,  under  the 
name  of  advocacy,  for  the  oonvicticm  of  all.  And  let  the 
reader  mark,  that  as  there  are  bishops  in  partihUf  so,  ia 
like  manner,  there  are  inquisitors  of  the  same  dass  ap- 
pointed in  every  country,  and  chiefly  in  Great  Britain  and 
the  colonies,  who  are  sworn  to  secrecy,  and  of  course  com- 
municate intelligence  to  this  sacred  congregation  of  all  that 
can  be  conceived  capable  of  comprehension  within  the 
infinitude  of  its  affairs.  We  must,  therefore,  either  believe 
that  the  court  of  Rome  is  not  in  earnest)  and  that  thia 
apparfittts  of  universal  jurisdiction  ia  but  a  shadow, — an 
assumption  which  is  contrary  to  all  experience,-— or  we 


^h'', 


,   i'^j  ; 


liriil 


•ill 


^f 


m 


k'^ 


348 


APPENDIX. 


must  understand  that  the  spies  and  familiars  of  the  Inqui- 
•sition  are  listening  at  our  doors,  and  intruding  themselves 
on  our  hearths.  How  they  proceed,  and  what  their  bre- 
thren at  Rome  are  doing,  events  may  tell ;  but  we  may  be 
sure  they  are  not  idle. 

They  were  not  idle  in  Rome  in  182^,  when  they  rebuilt 
the  prisons  of  the  Inquisition.  They  were  not  idle  in  1842, 
when  they  imprisoned  Dr.  Achilli  for  heresy,  as  he  assures 
us ;  nor  was  the  captain,  or  some  other  of  the  subalterns, 
who,  acting  in  their  name,  took  his  watch  from  him  as  he 
came  out.  They  were  not  idle  in  1843,  when  they  renewed 
the  old  edicts  against  the  Jews.  And  all  the  world  knows 
that  the  inquisitors  on  their  stations  throughout  the  ponti- 
fical states,  and  the  inquisitorial  agents  in  Italy,  Grermany, 
and  Eastern  Europe,  were  never  more  active  than  during 
the  last  four  years,  and  even  at  this  moment,  when  every 
political  misdemeanor  that  is  deemed  offensive  to  the  Pope, 
is,  constructively,  a  sin  against  the  Inquisition,  and  visited 
with  punishment  accordingly.  A  deliberative  body^  hold- 
ing formal  session!  thrice  every  week,  cannot  be  idle,  and 
although  it  may  please  them  to  deny  that  Dr.  Achilli  saw 
and  examined  a  black  book,  containing  the  praxis  now  in 
use,  the  criminal  code  of  inquisitors  in  force  at  this  day, 
— as  Archibald  Bower  had  an  abstract  of  such  a  book 
given  hTm  for  his  use  about  one  hundred  and  thirty  years 
ago, — they  cannot  couvince  me  that  I  have  not  seen  and 
handled,  and  used  in  the  preparation  of  this  volume,  the 
compendium  of  an  unpublished  Roman  code  of  inquisitorial 
regulations,  given  to  the  vicars  of  the  inquiditor-general  of 
Modena.  They  may  be  pleased  to  say  that  the  mordaccjiia, 
or  gag,  f  which  Dr.  Achilli  speaks,  as  mentioned  in  that 
Black  Book,  is  no  longer  used ;  but  that  it  is  mentioned 
there,  and  might  be  used  agam  is  more  than  credible  to 


■m 


APPENDIX. 


349 


myself,  after  having  seen  that  the  ^sacred  congregation" 
has  fixed  a  rate  of  fees  for  the  ordering,  witnessing,  and 
administration  of  torture.  There  was  indeed,  a  talk  of 
abolishing  torture  at  Rome ;  but  we  have  reason  to  believe 
that  the  congregation  will  not  drop  the  mordacchta,  inas- 
much, as,  instead  of  notifying  any  such  reformation  to  the 
courts  of  Europe,  this  congregation  has  kept  silence.  For 
although  a  continuation  of  the  bullary  has  just  been  pub- 
lished at  Rome,  containing  several  decrees  of  this  congre- 
gation, there  is  not  one  that  announces  a  fulfilment  of  this 
illusory  promise, — a  promise  imagined  by  a'ccr:.'espondent 
to  F««nch  newspapers,  but  never  given  by  the  inquisitors « 
themselves.  And  as  there  is  no  proof  that  they  have  yet 
abstained  from  torture,  there  is  a  large  amount  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  that  they  have  delighted  themselves  in 
death.  And  why  not  ?  When  public  burnings  became 
inexpedient — as  at  Goa — 'did  they  not  make  provision  for 
private  executions  ? 

For  a  third  time  at  least  the  Roman  prisons  —  I  am 
not  speaking  of  those  of  the  provinces  —  were  broken 
open,  in  1849,  after  the  desertion  of  Pius  IX.,  and  two 
prisoners  were  found  there,  an  aged  bishop  and  a  nun. 
Many  persons  in  Rome  reported  the  event ;  but  instead 
of  copying  what  is  already  1)efore  the  public,  I  translate 
a  letter  addressed  to  me  by  P.  Alessandro  Gavazzi,  late 
chaplain-general  of  the  Roman  army,  in  reply  to  a  few 
questions  which  I  had  put  to  him.  All  who  have  heard 
his  statements  may  judge  whether  his  account  'of  facts  be 
not  marked  with  every  note  of  accuracy.  Tfcey  will 
believe  thdt  his  power  of  oratory  does  not  betray  him 
into  random  declamation.  Under  date  of  March  20th, 
1852,  he  writes  thus : 
30 


■•■";;lfk  iiiti 

;,',:■■ 'if    'm    I' 


350 


APPBIIPIZ. 


TVMW    »    .  'wli 


A  •  *^  ^^ 


<<Mt  deab  Sib,-— Iu  answering  your  questions  con- 
eerning  the  palace  of  Inquisition  at  Rome,  I  should  say 
that  I  can  give  only  a  few  superficial  and  imperfect  notes. 
So  short  was  the  time  that  it  remained  open  to  the  public, 
so  great  the  crowd  of  persons  that  pressed  to  catch  a  sight 
of  it,  and  so  intense  the  horror  inspired  by  that  accursed 
place,  that  I  could  not  obtain  a  more  e:i:act  and  particular 
impression. 

"  I  found  no  instruments  of  torture,*  for  they  were  de- 
stroyed at  the  time  of  the  first  French  invasion,  and  be- 
cause such  instruments  were  not  used  afterwards  by  the 
modem  Inquisition.  I  did,  however,  find,  in  one  of  the 
prisons  of  the  second  court,  a  furnace,  and  the  remains 
of  a  woman's  dress.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  believe  that 
that  furnace  was  placed  there  for  the  use  of  the  living,  it 
not  being  in  8uch>  place,  or  of  such  a  kind,  as  to  be  of 
service  to  them.  Ever3rthing,  on  the  contrary,  combines 
to  persuade  me  that  it  was  made  use  of  for  hcurible  deaths, 
and  to  consume  the  remains  of  the  victims  of  inquisitorial 
executions.  Another  object  of  horror  I  found  between 
the  great  hall  of  judgment  and  the  luxurious  apartment 
of  the  chief  jailer  (primo  cttstode),  the  Dominican  friar 


*  "  The  gag,  the  thumb-screw,  and  many  other  instruments  of 
severe  torture  could  be  easily  destroyed  and  others  as  easily  pro- 
cured. The  non-appearance  of  installments  is  not  enough  to  sustain 
the  current  belief  that  the  use  of  them  is  discontiu:-ed.  So  long  as 
there  is  a  necret  prison,  and  while  all  the  existing  fl^ndards  of  in- 
quisitorial practice  make  torture  an  ordinary  expedient  for  extorting 
information,  not  even  a  bull,  prohibiting  torture,  would  be  sufficient 
to  convince  the  world  that  it  has  been  discontinued.  The  practice 
of  falsehood  is  enjoined  on  inquisitors.  How,  tfion,  could  we  believe 
a  bull,  or  decree,  if  it  were  put  forth  to-morrow,  to  release  them  from 
suspicion,  or  to  screen  them  from  obloquy  1  It  would  not  be  en- 
titled to  belief."  —  Rev.  Wm.  H.  Rule. 


# 


APPENDIX. 


351 


who  presides  over  this  diabolical  establishment.  This  was 
a  deep  trap  or  shaft  opening  into  the  vaults  under  the 
Inquisition.  As  soon  as  the  so-called  criminal  had  con- 
fessed his  offence,  the  second  keeper,  who  is  always  a  Do- 
minican friar,  sent  him  to  the  father  commissary  to  receive 
a  relaxation*  of  his  punishment.  With  the  hope  of  par- 
don, the  confessed  culprit  would  go  towards  the  apartment 
of  the  holy  inquisitor ;  but  in  the  act  of  setting  foot  at  its 
entrance,  the  trap  opened,  and  the  world  of  the  living 
heard  no  more  of  him.  I  examined  some  of  the  earth 
found  in  the  pit  below  this  trap ;  it  was  a  composit  of  com- 
mon earth,  rottenness,  ashes,  and  human  hair,  fetid  to  th'e 
smell,  and  horrible  to  the  sight  and  to  the  thought  of  the 
beholder. 

"  But  where  popular  fury  reached  its  highest  pitch  was 
m  the  vaults  of  St.  Pius  V.  I  am  anxious  that  you  should 
note  well  that  this  pope  was  canonized  by  the  Roman 
church  especially  for  his  zeal  against  heretics.  I  will  now 
describe  to  you  the  manner  how,  and  the  place  where, 
those  vicars  of  Jesus  Clirist  handled  the  living  members 
of  Jesus  Chri?i,  and  show  you  how  they  proceeded  for 
their  healing.  You  descend  into  the  vaults  by  verj^  nar- 
row stairs.  A  narrow  corridor  leads  you  to  the  seveftil 
cells,  which,  for  smallness  and  stench,  are  a  hundred  lioes- 
more  horrible  than  the  dens  of  lions  and  tigers  in  the 
Colossem.  "Wandering  in  this  labyrinth  of  most  frnrful 
prisons,  that  may  be  called  *  graves  for  the  living,*  I  came 
to  a  cell  full  of  skeletons  without  skulls,  buried  in  lime, 

*  "  In  Spain,  relaxation  is  delircry  to  death.  In*lhe  established 
style  of  the  Inqniflition  it  has  the  same  meaning.  Bat  in  the'com- 
mon  language  of  Rom'  <  it  means  release.  In  tlie  lips  of  the  inquis- 
itor, therefore,  if  he  used  the  word,  it  has  one  moaning,  and  another 
to  the  ear  of  the  prisoner."  --iZcv.  Wm.  H.  Rule. 


l-> 


'lli-i:; 


ii 


^/fi 


352 


APPENDIX. 


and  the  skulls,  detached  from  the  bodies,  had  been  col- 
lected in  a  hamper  by  the  first  vistors.  Whose  were 
those  skeletons  ?  and  why  were  they  buried  in  that  place 
and  in  that  manner  ?  I  have  heard  some  popish  priests 
trying  to  defend  the  Inquisition  from  the  charge  of  having 
condemned  its  victims  to  a  secret  death,  say  that  the  pal- 
ace of  the  Inquisition  was  built  on  a  burial-ground,  be- 
longing anciently  to  a  hospital  for  pilgrims,  and  that  the 
skelecons  found  were  none  other  than  those  of  pilgrims 
who  had  died  in  that  hospital.  But  everything  contradicts 
this  papistical  defence.  Suppose  that  there  had  been  a 
cemetery  there,  it  could  not  have  had  subterranean  galler- 
ies and  cells,  laid  out  with  so  great  regularity ;  and  even 
if  there  had  been  such  —  against  all  probability  —  the 
remains  of  bodies  would  have  been  removed  on  laying  the 
foundation  of  the  palace,  to  leave  the  space  free  for  the 
subterranean  part  of  the  Inquisition.  Besides,  it  is  con- 
trary to  the  use  of  common  tombs  U)  bury  the  dead  by 
carrying  them  through  a  door  at  the  side ;  for  the  mouth 
of  the  sepulchre  is  always  at  the  top.  And  again,  it  has 
never  been  the  custom  in  Italy  to  bury  the  dead  singly  in 
quick  lime ;  but,  in  time  of  plague,  the  dead  bodies  have 
been  usually  laid  in  a  grave  until  it  was  sufficiently  full, 
.and  then  quick  lime  has  been  laid  over  them,  to  prevent 
pestilential  exhalations,  by  hastening  the  decomposition  of 
the  infected  corpses.  This  custom  was  continued,  some 
years  ago,,  in  the  cemeteries  of  Naples,  and  especially  in 
the  daily  bjjrial  of  the  poor.  Therefore,  the  skeletons 
found  in  the  Inquisition  of  Rome  could  not  belong  to  per- 
sons who  had  died  a  natural  death  in  a  hospital;  nor 
could  any  one,  under  such  a  supposition,  explain  the  mys- 
tery of  all  the  bodies  being  buried  in  lime  except  the  head. 
It  remains,  then,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  that  subterranean 


APPENDIX. 


353 


vault  contained  the  victims  of  one  of  the  many  secret  martyr- 
doms of  the  butcherly  tribunal.  The  following  is  the  most 
probable  opinion,  if  it  be  not  rather  the  history  of  a  fact : 

"  The  condemned  were  immersed  in  a  bath  of  slaked 
lime,  gradually  fill'»d  up  to  their  necks.  The  lime  by  little 
and  little  enclosed  the  sufferers,  or  walled  them  up  alive. 
The  torment  was  extreme  but  slow.  As  the  lin.'^  rose 
higher  and  higher,  the  respiration  became  more  and 
more  painful,  bemuse  more  difficult.  So  that  what  with 
the  suffocation  of  the  smoke,  and  the  anguish  of  the 
compressed  breathing,  they  died  in  a  manner  most  hor- 
rible and  desperate.  Some  time  after  their  death  the 
heads  would  naturally  separate  from  the  bodies,  and  roll 
away  into  the  hollows  made  by  the  shrinking  of  the  lime. 
Any  other  explanation  of  the  fact  that  may  be  attempted 
will  be  found  improbable  and  unnatural.  Tou  may  make 
what  use  you  please  of  these  notes  of  mine,  since  I  can 
warrant  their  truth.  I  wish  that  writers,  speaking  of 
this  infamous  tribunal  of  the  Inquisition,  would  derive  their 
information  from  pure  history,  unmingled  with  romance ; 
for  so  great  and  so  many  the  historical  atrocities  of  the 
Inquisition,  that  they  would  more  than  suffice  to  arouse 
the  detestation  of  a  thousand  worlds.  I  know  that  the 
popish  impostor-priests  go  about  saying  that  the  Inquisi- 
tion was  never  an  ecclesiastical  tribunal,  but  a  laic.  But 
you  will  have  shown  the  contrary  in  your  work,  and  may 
also  add,  in  order  quite  to  unmask  these  lying  preachers, 
that  the  palace  of  the  Inquisition  at  Rome  is  under  the 
shadow  of  the  palace  of  the  Vatican;  that  the  keepers  are 
to  this  day,  Dominican  friars ;  and  that  the  prefect  of  the 
Inquisition  at  Rome  is  the  Pope  in  person. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be  your  affectionate  Servant, 

ALESSAMDitA  GaVAZTII." 
30# 


■jjiii 


354 


APPENDIX. 


:-ff?.^  J. 


m 


]:  '1' :         ,M      I 


*'  The  Roman  parliament  decreed  the  erection  of  a  pil- 
lai  opposite  the  palace  of  the  Inquisition,  to  perpetuate 
the  memory  of  the  destruction  of  that  nest  of  abomina- 
tions ;  but  before  that  or  any  other  monument  could  be 
raised,  the  French  army  besieged  and  took  the  city,  re- 
stored the  Pope,  and  with  him  the  tribunal  of  the  faith. 
Not  only  was  Dr.  Achilli  thrown  into  one  of  its  old  pris- 
ons, on  the  29th  of  July  1849,  but  the  violence  of  the 
people  having  made  the  building  less  adequate  to  tbe  pur- 
pose of  safe  keeping,  he  was  transferred  to  the  castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  which  had  often  been  employed  for  the  custody 
of  similar  delinquents,  and  there  he  lay  in  close  confine- 
n.ciit  until  the  9th  of  January,  1850,  when  the  French 
authorities,  yielding  to  influential  representations  from 
this  country  assisted  him  to  escape  in  disguise  as  a  soldier, 
thus  removing  an  occasion  of  scandal,  but  carefully  leav- 
ing the  authority  of  the  congregation  of  cardinals  undis- 
puted. Indeed  they  first  obtained  the  verbal  sanction  of 
the  conmiissary,  who  saw  it  expedient  to  let  his  victim  go, 
and  hush  an  outcry. 

"  Yet  some  have  the  hardihood  to  affirm  that  there  is  no 
longer  any  Inquisition ;  and  as  the  Inquisitors  were  in- 
structed to  suppress  the  truth,  to  deny  their  knowledge  of 
cases  actually  passing  through  their  hands,  and  to  fabri- 
cate falsehoods  for  the  sake  of  preserving  the  secret,  be- 
cause the  secret  was  absolutely  necessary  to  the  preser- 
vation of  their  office,  so  do  the  Inquisitors  in  partibus 
falsify  and  illude  without  the  least  scruple  of  conscience, 
in  order  to  put  the  people  of  this  country  off  their  guard. 

"  That  the  Inquisition  really  exists,  is  placed  beyond  a 
doubt  by  its  daily  action  as  a  visible  institution  at  Rome. 
But  if  any  one  should  fancy  that  it  was  abolished  after 
the  release  of  Dr.  Achilli,  let  him  hear  a  sentence  contra- 


APPENDIX. 


355 


dictory,  from  a  bull  of  the  Pope  himself,  Pius  IX,  a  docu- 
ment that  was  dated  at  Rome,  August  22,  1851,  where 
the  pontiff,  condemning  the  works  of  Professor  Nuytz,  of 
Turin,  says,  "  after  having  taic&ii  the  advice  of  the  doctors 
in  theology  and  canon  law,  after  having  collected  the 
suffrages  of  our  venerable  brothers  the  cardinals  of  the 
congregation  of  the  supreme  and  universal  Inqui- 
sition." And  so  recently  as  March,  1852,  by  letters  of 
the  Secretariate  of  State,  he  appointed  four  cardinals  to 
be  "  members  of  the  Sacred  Congregation  of  the  Holy 
Boman  and  Universal  Inquisition;"  giving  incontro- 
vertible evidence  that  provision  is  made  for  attending  to 
communications  of  Inquisitors  in  partibus  from  all  parts 
of  the  world.  As  the  old  cardinals  die  off,  their  vacant 
seats  are  filled  by  Olivers.  The  *  immortal  legion'  is 
punctually  recruited. 

"  After  all,  have  we  in  Great  Britain,  Ireland  and  the 
colonies,  and  our  brethren  of  the  foreign  mission  stations, 
any  reason  to  apprehend  harm  to,  ourselves  from  the 
Inquisitiun  as  it  is  ?  .  In  r^ly  to  this  question,  let  it  be 
observed ;  1 .  That  there  are  Inquisitors  in  partibus  is  not 
to  be  denied.  That  letters  of  these  Inquisitors  are  laid 
before  the  Roman  Inqu'sition  is  equally  certain.  Even 
in  the  time  of  Leo  XII,  when  the  church  of  Roiae  was 
far  less  active  in  the  British  empire  than  it  is  now,  ^ome 
particular  case  was  always  decided  on  Tluirsday,  when 
the  Pope,  in  his  character  of  universal  Inquisitor,  presided 
in  the  congregation.  It  cannot  be  thought  that  now,  in 
the  height  of  its  exultation,  daring  and  aggression,  this 
congregation  has  fewer  emissaries,  or  that  they  are  less 
active,  or  less  communicative  than  they  were  at  that  time. 
We  also  see  that  the  number  is  constanly  replenished. 
The  cardinals  Delia  Genga-Sermatt*ii ;  De  Azevedo ;  For- 
nari ;  and  Lucciardi  liave  just  been  »d<\fd  to  it 


350 


APPENDIX. 


bUj 


it;. 


2.  Besides  a  cardinal  in  England,  and  a  delegate  in 
Ireland,  there  is  both  in  England  and  Ireland,  a  body  of 
bishops, '  natural  Inquisitors,'  as  they  are  always  acknowl- 
edged, and  have  often  claimed  to  be ;  and  these  natural 
Inquisitors  are  all  sworn  to  keep  the  secret  —  the  soul  of 
the  Inquisition.  Since,  then,  there  are  Inquisitors  in  pat' 
tibus,  appointed  to  supply  the  lack  of  an  avowed  and 
stationary  Inquisition,  and  since  the  bishops  are  the  very 
persons  whom  the  court  of  Bome  can  best  command,  as 
pledged  for  such  a  service,  it  is  reasonaulu  to  suppose  they 
act  in  that  capacity. 

3.  Some  of  the  proceedings  of  these  bishops  confirm 
the  assurance  that  there  is  now  an  Inquisition  in  activity 
in  England.  *  •  •  *  The  vigilance  exercised  over 
families,  also  the  intermeddling  of  priests  with  education, 
both  in  families  and  schools,  and  with  the  innumerable 
relations  of  civil  society,  can  only  be  traced  back  to  the 
Inquisitors  in  partihu,  whose  peculiar  duty,  whether  by 
help  of  confessors  or  familiars^  is  to  worm  out  every  secret 
of  affairs,  private  or  public,  and  to  organize  and  conduct 
measures  of  repression  or  of  punishment.  Where  the 
secular  arm  cannot  be  borrowed,  and  where  offenders  lie 
beyond  the  reach  of  excommunication,  irregular  methods 
must  be  resorted  to,  not  rejecting  any  as  too  crafty  or  too 
violent  Discontented  mobs,  or  individual  zealots  are  to 
be  found  or  bought.  What  part  the  Inquisitors  in  parti- 
bug  play  in  Irish  assasinations,  or  in  the  general  mass  of 
murderous  assaults  that  is  perpetrated  in  the  lower  haunts 
of  crime,  it  is  impossible  to  say.  Under  cover  of  confes* 
sional  and  Inquisitorifxl  secrets,  spreads  a  broad  field  of 
action— 4a  region  of  n  ystery— only  visible  to  the  eye  of 
God,  and  to  those  'most  reverend  and  most  eminent' 
guardians  of  the  papacy,  who  sit  thrice  every  week,  in 


APPENDIX. 


357 


the  Minerva  and  Vatican,  and  there  manage  the  hidden 
springs  of  Inquisition  on  the  heretics,  sclii^nuUics,  and 
rebels,  no  less  than  on  'the  faithfur  of  realms.  Wiio 
can  calculate  the  extent  of  their  power  over  those 
<  religious  houses/  where  so  many  of  the  inmates  are  hut 
neophytes,  unfitted  by  British  education  for  the  intellect- 
ual and  moral  abnegation,  the  surrender  of  mind  and  con- 
science, which  monastic  discipline  exacts  ?  Yet,  they  must 
be  coerced  into  submission,  and  kept  under  penal  disci- 
pline. Who  can  tell  bow  many  of  their  own  clergy  are 
withdrawn  to  Rome,  and  there  delated,  imprisoned,  and 
left  to  perish,  if  not  'relaxed'  to  death,  in  punishment  of 
heretical  opinions  or  liberal  practices  ?  We  have  heard 
of  laymen,  too,  taken  to  Rome  by  force,  or  decoyed 
thither  under  false  pretences  there  to  be  punished  by  the 
universal  Inquisition ;  and  whatever  of  incredibility  may 
appear  in  some  tales  of  Inquisitorial  abduction,  the  gen- 
eral fact  that  such  abductions  have  taken  place,  seems  to 
be  incontrovertible.  And  now  that  the  Inquisitors  in  par- 
tihus  are  distributed  over  Christendom,  and  that  they 
provide  the  Roman  Inquisition  with  daily  work  from 
year's  end  to  year's  end,  is  among  the  things  most  certain, 
—  even  the  most  careless  of  Englishmen  must  acknowl- 
edge that  we  have  all  reason  to  apprehend  much  evil 
from  the  Inquisition  as  it  is.  And  no  christian  can  be 
aware  of  this  fact,  without  feeling  himself  more  than 
ever  bound  to  uphold  the  cause  of  Christianity,  both  at 
home  ind  abroad,  as  the  only  counteractive  of  so  dire  a 
curse,  and  the  only  remedy  of  so  vast  an  evil."  Hev. 
Wm.  Ride,  London. 

The  Rev.  E.  A.  Lawrence,  writing  of  "  Romanism  at 
Rome,"  gives  us  the  following  vivid  description  of  the 
present  state  of  the  Roman  Church. 


358 


APPENDIX. 

V 


;i      T- 


"  Next  is  seen  at  Rome  the  Propaganda,  tbe  grc4t 
missionary  heart  of  the  whole  masterly  system.  Noise-  • 
lessly,  by  the  multiform  orders  of  monks  and  nuns,  as 
through  so  many  veins  and  arteries,  it  sends  out  and 
receives  back  its  vital  fluid.  In  its  halls,  the  whole  world 
is  distinctly  mapped  out,  and  the  chief  points  of  influence 
minutely  marked.  A  kind  of  telegraphic  communication 
is  established  with  the  remotest  stations  in  South  Africa 
and  Siberia,  and  with  almost  every  nook  in  our  own  land, 
to  which  the  myrmidons  of-  Papal  power  look  with  the 
most  of  fear.  It  is  through  means  of  this  moral  galvanic 
battery,  set  up  in  the  Vatican,  that  the  Church  of  Home 
has  gained  its  power  of  uUquity  —  has  so  well  nigh  made 
itself  omnipotent,  as  well  as  omnipresent. 

"  It  is  no  mean  or  puny  antagonist  that  strides  across 
tbe  path  of  a  frde  r^piritual  and  advancing  Protestantism. 
And  yet,  with  f'  sJTtiple  shepherd's  sling,  and  the  smooth 
stones  gathere<l  i'rom  Siloa's  bixrak,  God  will  give  it  the 
victory. 

*'  Once  more  let  us  look,  and  we  shall  find  at  Itome, 
still  working  in  its  dark,  malignant  efliciency,  the  Inquisi- 
tion. Men  are  still  made  to  pass  through  fires  of  this 
Moloch.  This  is  the  grand  defensive  expedient  of  the 
Papacy,  and  is  the  chief  tribunal  of  the  States.  Its  pro- 
cesses are  all  as  secret  as  the  grave.  Its  cells  are  full  of 
dead  men's  bones.  They  call  it  >  he  Asylum  for  the  poor 
—  a  retreat  for  doubting  and  distressed  pilgrims,  where 
they  may  have  experience  of  the  parental  kindness  of 
their  father  the  Pope,  and  th'3ir  mother  the  church. 

*'  Dr.  Achilli  had  a  trial  of  this  beneficient  discipline, 
when  thrown  into  the  deep  dungeon  of  St.  Angelo.  And 
how  many  other  poor  victims  of  this  diabolical  institution 
are  at  this  moment  pining  in  agony,  heaven  knows. 


APPENDIX. 


359 


"  In  Arnt^rica,  we  talk  about  Rome  as  having  ceased  to 
persecute.  Jf  u  a  mistake.  Slie  holds  to  the  principle  as 
tenaciously  as  ever.  She  cannot  dispense  with  it..  Of 
the  evil  spirit  of  Protestantism  she  says,  "This  kind  goeth 
not  out,  but  by  fire."  Her  reign,  is  a  reign  '  'error. 
Hence  she  must  hold  both  the  principle  a  wer 

of  persecution,  of  compelling  men  to  believ  •  r 

doubt,  of   pulling   them  to  death  for  their  ^    J. 

Take  from  her  this  power  and  she  bites  the  dust." 


BOMANIS¥  m  AMERICA. 

It  may  perchance  be  said  that  the  i^mat'ks  of  the  Rev. 
William  Rule,  quoted  above,  refer  exclusively  to  the  ex- 
isting state  of  things  in  England,  Ireland,  and  the  colo- 
nies. But  who  will  dare  to  say,  after  a  careful  investiga- 
tion of  the  subject,  that  they  do  not  apply  with  equal 
force  to  these  United  States  ? 

Has  America  nothing  to  fear  from  the  inquisitors  — 
from  the  Jesuits  ?  Is  it  true  that  the '^  Inquisition  srlU 
exists  in  Home  —  that  its  code  is  unchanged  —  that  its 
emissaries  are  sent  over  ali  ihe  world ' —  that  every  nuncio 
and  bishop  is  an  Inquisitor,"  and  is  it  improbable  that, 
even  now,  torture  rooms  like  those  described  in  the  fore- 
going story,  may  be  found  in  Roman  Catholic  establish- 
ments in  this  country  ?  Yes,  even  here,  in  Protestant, 
enlightened  America!  Have  we  then  nothing  to  fear 
from  Romanisin  ?  But  a  few  days  since  a  gentleman  of 
learning  and  intelligence  when  speaking  of  this  subject, 
exclaimed,  "  What  have  we  to  do  with  th»  Jesuits  ?  and 
what  is  the  Inquisition  to  us  ?  The  idea  that  we  have 
aught  to  fear  from  Romanism,  is  simply  ridiculous ! "  In 
reply  to  this,  alk)W  me  to  quote  the  language  of  the  Rev. 
Manuel  J.  Gonsalves,  leader  of  the  Madeira  Exiles. 


^ 

^i^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


"/ 


1.0 


1.1 


liilM    U2.S 


US 

««   -.0    111120 


U& 


1 

\^  iU    |l.6 

^ 

6"     

> 

niOtogFEIfM: 

Sciences 
CorporatiGn 


23  WIST  MAIN  STMIT 

WIBSTn,N.Y.  MSM 

(71«)t73-4S03 


> 


360 


APPENDIX. 


*'  The  time  will  come  when  the  American  people  will 
arise  as  one  man,  and  not  only  abolish  the  confessional, 
biit  will  follow  the  example  of  many  of  the  European 
nations,  who  had  no  peace,  or  rest,  till  they  banished  the 
Jesuits.  These  are  the  men,  who  bask  in  the  sunbeams 
of  popery,  to  whom  the  pope  has  entrusted  the  vast  inter- 
ests of  the  king  of  Rome,  in  this.great  Bepublic.  Nine 
tenths  of  the  Romish  priests,  now  working  hard  for  their 
Master  the  pope,  in  this  country,  are  full  blooded  Jesuits. 
The  man  of  sin  who  is  the  head  of  the  mystery  of  in- 
iquity —  through  the  advice  of  the  popish  bishops  now  in 
this  country,  hxA  selected  the  Jesuitical  order  of  priests, 
to  carry  on  Lis  great  and  gigantic  operations  in  the  United 
States  of  America.  Those  Jesuits  who  distinguish 
themselves  the  most  in  the  destruction  of  Protestant  Bible 
religion,  and  who  gain  the  largest  number  of  protestant 
scholars  for  popish  schools  and  Aeminaries;  who  win  most 
American  converts  to  their  sect  are  offered  great  rewards 
in  the  sliape  of  high  oflSces  in  the  church.  John  Hughes, 
the  Jesuit  Bishop  of  the  New  JTork  Romanists,  was 
rewarded  by  Pope  Pius  9th,  with  an  Archbishop's  mitre,' 
for  his  great^  zeal  and  success,  in  removing  Grod's  Holy 
Bible  from  thirty-eight  public  schools  in  New  Tork,  and 
^  for  procuring  a  papal  school  committee,  to  examine  every 
book  in  the  hands  of  American  children  in  the  public 
schools,  that  every  passage  of  truth,  in  those  books  of 
history  unpalatable  to  the  pope  might  be  blotted  out'' 
Has  America  then  nothing  to  do  with  Romanism  ? 

But  another  gentleman  exclaims,  '<  What  if  Romanism 
be  on  the  increase  in  the  United  States  I  Is  not  their 
reli.^on  as  dear  to  thepi»  as  ours  is  to  us  ?  "  Td  this  the 
Rev.  M.  J.  Gonsalves  would  reply  as  follows.  "Hie 
American  people  have  been  deceived,  in  believing  that 


APPENDIX. 


361 


Popery  wot  a  reUgioHf  not  a  very  gooci  one  to  be  sure,  but 
eome  kind  of  one.  This  hiu  been  their  great  mistake. 
We  might  as  well  call  the  Arebbishop  of  the  faUon  angelsy 
and  his  crew,  a  religious  bodj  of  intelligent  beings* 
because  they  believe  in  an  Almighty  God,  and  tremble » 
as  to  call  the  man  of  sin  and  his  Jesuits,  a  body  of  religp 
ious  saints.  The  tree  is  known  by  its  fruit,  such  as  'loye^ 
joy,  peace,  long  suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  meeknecui, 
faith,  temperance,  brotherly  kindness;'  and  where  ^be 
spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty^  Christiwi  liberty, 
giving  to  GU)d  and  man  their  due  unasked*  Now  we  aeb^ 
what  kind  of  fruit  does  the  tree  of  Popevy  bear>  in  vsj 
country,  that  it  should  claim  homage,  And  reapeo^  m  ft 
goodreli^on?" 

Such  is  the  language  of  one  who  kneir  so  well  whAt 
popery  was,  that  he  fled  item,  it  as  from  a  hell  upon  earth. 

In  his  further  remarks  upon  the  horrors  of  convent  life 
in  the  United  States,  he  fiilly  confirms  the  statements  in  the 
foregoing  narrative.  He  says,  ^  It  is  time  that  American 
gentlemen,  who  are  so  much  occupied  in  business,  should 
think  of  the  dangers  of  the  confessional,  and  the  miseries 
endured  by  innocent,  duped,  American,  imprisoned  females 
in  this  free  country;  and  remember  that  these  Ameri^ 
can  ladies  who  have  been  duped  and  enticed  by  Jesuit- 
ical intrigue  and  eraffc,  into  their  female  convents,  have  no 
means  of  deliverance ;  they  cannot  write  a  letter  to  a  fnend 
without  the  consent  and  inspection  of  the  Mother  Abbess, 
who  is  always  and  invariably  a  female  tyrant,  a  creature 
in  the  pay  of  the  Bishop,  and  depend^t  upon  the  Bishop 
for  her  despotic  office  of  power.  The  poor,  unfortunate, 
imprisoned  American  female  has  no  means  of  redress  in 
her  power.  She  cannot  communicate  her  story  of  wrong 
and  suflfering  to  any  living  being  beyond  the  walls  of  her 

81 


362 


APPENDIX. 


prison.  She  may  have  a  father,  a  mother,  a  dear  brother, 
or  a  sister,  who,  if  they  knew  one-sixteenth  parfc^'^f  her 
wrongs  and  sufferings,  would  fly  at  once  to  see  her  and 
fi3rmpathize  with  her  in  her  anguish.  Bat  the  Jesuit  con- 
fessor attached  to  the  prisonr  is  ever  on  the  alert  Those 
ladies  who  appear  the  most  unhappy,  and  unreconciled  to 
their  prison,  are  compelled  to  attend  the  confessional  every 
day;  and  thus  the  artful  Jesuit,  by  a  thousand  cutogb  ques- 
tions, is  made  to  understand  perfectly  the  state  of  their 
minds.  The  Lady  Pcnter,  or  door-keeper  and  jailor,  is 
always  a  creature  of  the  priest's,  and  a  great  favorite  with 
Ihe  Mother  Abbess.  Should  any  friends  call  to  see  an 
unhappy  nnn  who  is  utterly  unreconciled  to  her  fate,  the 
Lady  Porter  is  instructed  to  inform  those  relatives  that 
the  dear  nun  they  want  to  see  so  much,  is  so  perfectly  hap- 
py, and  ^ven  up  to  heavenly  meditations,  that  she  cannot 
be  persuaded  to  see  an  earthly  relative.  At  the  same 
time  t^  lother  Abbess  dismisses  the  relatives  with  a 
very  e  wful  countenance,  and  regrets  very  much,  in 
iqppearaiiiee,  their  disappointment.  .But  the  unhappy  nun 
is  never  informed  that  her  friends  or  relatives  have  called 
to  inquire  after  her  welfare.  How  amazing,  that  govern- 
ment should  allow  such  prisms  in  the  name  of  religion  I  ** 

CONVENT  OP  THE  CAPUOBINB  IN  SANTIAGO. 

In  a  late  number  of  "The  American  and  Foreign 
Christian  Union,"  we  find  the  following  account  of  con- 
ventual life  from  a  rep(Hl  of  a  Missionary  in  Chili,  South 
America. 

**  Now,  my  brother,  let  me  give  you  an  account  related 
to  me  by  a  most  worthy  English  family,  most  of  the  mem- 
bers of  which  have  grown  up  in  the  country,  ctrnfirmed 


APPENDIX. 


86S 


also  by  common  reporti  of  the  CSonvent  of  Capuchins,  in 
Santia^ 

^The  number  o^  inmates  is  limited  to  thirfy-two  young 
ladies.  The  admittance  fee  :s  $2000.  When  the  nun 
enters  she  is  dressed  like  a  bride,  in  the  most  costly  ma- 
terial that  wealth  can  command.  There,  beside  the  altar 
of  consecration,  she  dcTOtes  herself  in  the  most  solemn 
manner  to  a  life  of  celibacy  and  mortification  of  the  flesh 
and  spirit,  with  the  deluded  hope  that  her  works  will  merit 
a  brighter  mansion  in  the  realms  above. 

**  The  forms  of  consecration  being  completed,  she  begins 
to  cast  off  her  rich  veil,  costly  vestments,  all  her  splendid 
diamonds  and  brilliants— which,  in  many  instances,  have 
cost,  perhaps,  from  ten  to  fifteen,  or  even  twen^  thousand 
dollars.  Then  her  beautiful  locks  are  submitted  to  the 
tonsure ;  and  to  signify  her  deadness  forever  to  the  worl^ 
she  is  clothed  in  a  dress  of  coarse  grey  doth,  called  serg^ 
in  which  she  is  to  pass  the  miserable  remnant  of  her  days. 
The  dark  sombre  walls  of  her  prison  she  can  never  pass, 
and  its  iron>bound  doors  are  shut  forever  upon  their  new, 
youthful,  and  sensitive  occupant  Barely,  if  ever,  is  she 
permitted  to  speak,  and  nevery  never,  to  see  her  friends  or 
the  loved  ones  of  home—  to  enjoy  the  embraces  of  a  fond 
mother,  or  devoted  father,  or  the  smiles  of  fraternal  or  sis- 
terly affection.  If  ever  aUowed  to  speak  at  all,  it  is 
through  iron  bars  where  she  cannot  be  seen,  and  in  the 
presence  cf  the  abbess,  to  see  that  no  oomplahit  esci^>es 
her  lips.  However  much  her  bosom  may  swell  with 
anriety  at  the  sound  of  voices  whieh  were  once  music  to 
her  soul,  and  she  may  long  to  pour  out  her  cries  and  tears 
to  those  who  once  soothed  every  sorrow  of  her  h^fft;  yet 
not  a  murmur  must  be  uttered.  The  soul  must  suffer  its 
own  sorrows  solitary  and  alone,  with  none  to  sympathise. 


864 


APPENDIX. 


fft  grant  relief,  and  none  to  listen  to  its  moans  but  tne  cold 
gloomy  walls  of  her  tomb.  No,  no,  not  even  the  Ckwpel 
of  Jesus  Christ,  that  great  alleviator  of  all  the  sorrows  of 
Uie  heart,  is  allowed  an  entrance  there. 

**  Nor  is  this  all.  Besides  being  condemned  to  a  mea- 
gre, insufficient  and  uhwholesome  diet  which  they  them- 
ielves  must  cook,  the  nuns  are  not  allowed  to  speak  much 
with  each  other,  except  to  say^  *  Que  morir  tc^nonos,'  *  we 
ire  to  die,'  or  *  we  must  die,'  and  to  ireplj, '  Ya  los  sabe- 
mos,'  *  we  know  it,'  or  '  already  we  know  it' 

'"They  pass  most  of  their  time  in  small  lonely  Mils, 
where  they  sleep  in  a  narrow  place  dug  out  in  the  ground^ 
in  the  shapd  of  a  coffin,  without  bed  cS  any  kind,  except  a 
t>iece  of  coarse  »erg9  tsgreeA  dowta ;  and  their  daily  dfess 
is  their  only  covering.  Sh^l  did  I  say  ?  Alas !  *  Tired 
nature's  sweet  restorer,  balmy  sleep,  no  more  with  his 
downy  pinions  lights  on  lids  unsullied  with  a  tear  2 '  for 
twnry  how  of  ihe  twnOy-fow  they  are  aroused  by  the  bell 
to  perform  Hbxxt^Avo  Maria%*  count  their  ntsaries,  and 
such  other  blind  devotions  as  may  be  imposed.  Thus  they 
drag  out  a  miserable  exi^nce,  and  when  death  calls  the 
spirit  to  its  last  aeoount,  the  other  nuns  dig  the  grave  with 
their  own  hands,  within  the  walls  of  the  convent,  and  so 
perform  the  obsequies  of  their  departed  sister. 

"Thus,  I  have  briefly  given  you  not  fiction !  but  a  faith- 
fiil  narrative  ci  fiicts  in  regard  to  conventuid  life,  and  an 
estaUishment  marked  by  almost  every  form  of  sin,  and  yet 
making  pretence  of 'pffipfecting  the  saints,'  by  the  firee  and 
j^nUe  influences  of  the  gospel  of  Christ. 

**  Query  Ist.  What  is  done  with  &11  the  money  ? 

**  2d.  What  is  done  with  the  rich  vestments  and  jewels? 

**9d.  Where  do  ^  priest  get  all  their  brilliaBtsto 
peribrm  high  mass  and  adorn  their  processions  ? 


APPENDIX. 


366 


**  ik.  Where  does  all  the  hair  of  the  saints  come  from, 
which  is  sold  in  lockets  for  high  prices  as  sure  preventives 
ofevU? 

'*5th.  Whose  grave  has  been  plundered  to  obtain  reli'cf 
to  sell  to  the  ignorant. 

^  6th.  Where  does  the  Romish  Church  obtain  her  nwv 
flbu  righteousnen  to  $eU  to  ike  needy,  and  not  give  it  like 
our  blessed  Lord,  *  without  money  and  without  price  ?  * 

^  7th.  Who  is  responsible  for  the  fanatieitm  that  in- 
duces a  young  female  to  incarcerate  herself? 

<^8th.  Where  is  the  authority  in  reason,  in  revelation, 
for  such  a  life  ? 

«9th.  What  is  the  average  length  of  life? 

« 10th.  How  many  die  insane  ? 

**A  young  lady  lately  cast  herself  from  the  tower,  and 
was  dashed  in  pieces,  being  led  to  do  it,  dcubtless,  in  dea. 
peration.  The  convents  of  this  city,  of  the  same  order, 
require  the  same  entrance  fee,  $2000.  Of  course,  none 
but  the  comparatively  rich  can  avail  themselves  of  this 
perfection  of  godliness. 

^  Who  will  say  that  this  mode  of  life  has  not  been  in- 
vented in  order  to  cut  short  life  as  rapidly  as  possible, 
that  the  $2000,  with  all  the  rich  diamonds  upon  initiation, 
may  be  repeated  as  frequently  as  possible  ? 

^'0 1  :^w  trueit  is,  that  Romanism  is  the  same  merci- 
less, cruel,  diabolical  organization,  wherever  it  can  fully 
develop  itself,  in  all  lands.  How  truly  is  it  denominated 
by  the  pen  of  inspiration  the  <  mjfttery  of  iniquity^  espe- 
cially that  part  of  it  relating  to  these  secret  institutions^ 
and  the  whole  <»der  df  the  Jesuits.'' 

The  editor  of  the  <<  Christian  Union,"  in  his  remarks  on 
the  above,  says,  <*  Already  the  fair  face  of  our  country  is 
disfigured  by  the  existence  here  and  there  of  conventual 
31* 


i 


366 


Art'BNDIZ. 


establishmentfc  At  present  they  do  not  show  the  hifleous 
feattires  Tiffiich  they,  at  least  in  some  cases,  assume  in 
countries  where  papal  influence  and  authority  are  supreme. 
The  genius  of  ouir  goyemment  and  institutions  necessa- 
rily exerts  a  restraining  power,  which  holds  them  ffom 
excesses  to  which,  otherwise,  they  might  run.  B«t  they 
constitute  a  part  of  a  system  which  is  strongly  at  variance 
with  the  interests  of  humanity,  and  merely  wait  the  occur- 
rence of  favorable  circumstances  to  visit  upoki  our  land  all 
the  horrors  which  they  have  inflicted  elsewhere. 

**  How  many  conventual  establishments  there  are  now 
in  the  nation,  fev/  Protestants,  it  is  believed,  know.  And 
how  many  young  females,  guilty,  of  no  crime  against  so- 
ciety, and  condemned  by  no  law  of  the  land,  are  shut  up 
in  their  walls  and  doomed  to  a  life  which  they  did  not 
anticipate  ./hen  entering  them,  a  life  which  is  more  dread- 
ful to  them  than  death,  vely  few  of  the  millions  of  our 
tStizens  conceive.  The  majority  of  our  people  have  slept 
over  the  whole  subject,  and  the  indifierence  thus  manifested 
has  emboldened  the  priests  to  push  forward  the  extension 
of  the  system,  and  the  workmen  are  now  busy  in  various 
places  in  the  construction  of  additional  establishments. 
But  such  fects  as  are  revealed  in  this  article,  from  the  pen 
of  our  missionary,  in  connection  with  things  that  are  oc- 
curring around  us,  show  that  no  time  should  bf  lost  in 
examining  this  whole  subject  of  convents  and  monasteries, 
and  in  legislating  rightly  about  them.*' 

Again,  when  speaking  of  papal  convents  in  the  United 
States,  the  same  talented  writer  observes,  **  The  time  has 
fully  come  when  Protestants  should  lay  aside  their  apathy 
land  too  long-cherished  indifference  in  respect  to  the 
movements  of  R<Hne  in  this  land.  It  is  time  for  them  to 
call  to  mind  the  testimony  of  their  Others,  their  bitter 


«    « 


APPENDIX. 


367 


experiences  from  the  papal  See,  and  to  take  effective  mea- 
eures  to  protect  the  inheritance  bequeathed  lb  themy  that 
they  may  han^  it  down  to  their  children  free  from  corrup- 
tion, at  pare  and  as  Taluable  as  when  they  received  it. 
They  should  remember  that  Rome  claims  never  to  change, 
>that  what  she  was  in  Europe  when  in  the  senith  of  hfr 
power,  she  will  be  here  when  fairly  installed,  and  has 
ability  to  enforce  her  commands. 

**  Her  numbers  now  on  our  soil,  her  nearly  two  thousand 
priests  moving  about  everywhere,  her  colleges  and  print- 
ing-presses, her  schools  and  ccmvents,  and  enormous 
amounts  of  property  held  by  her  bishops,  have  served 
as  an  occasion  to  draw  out  something  of  her  spirit,  and  to 
show  that  she  is  arrogant  and  aiutive  to  th$  txtmU  of 
htrpower,  • 

**  Scarcely  a  newspaper  issues  from  her  press,  but  is 
loaded  with  abuse  of  Protestants  and  of  their  religion, 
and  at  every  available  point  assaults  are  made  upon  their 
institutions  and  laws ;  and  Some  and  her  institutixms  and 
interests  are  erxmdtd  into  notice,  and  spedal  privileges 
are  loudly  damoiX'-i  for. 

**  All  Protestants,  therefore,  of  every  name,  and  of  every 
relij^ous  and  political  creed,  we  repeat  it,  who  do  not 
desire  to  ignore  the  past,  and  to  rraiounce  all  care  or  con- 
eem  fojr  the  future,  as  to  their  children  and  children's  chil- 
dren, should  lose  no  time  in  informing  themselves  of  the 
state  of  things  around  them  in  r^;ard  to  the  papacy  and 
^  its  institutions.  They  should  without  delay  devote  their 
effi>rts  and  influence  to  the  protection  of  the  country 
against  these  Popish  establishments  and  their  viages 
whioh  have  been  set  up  among  us  without  the^f^nlliDri^ 
of  law,  and  under  whose  crushmg  weight  some  of  #e 
nations  of  Europe  ha^e  staggered  and  reeled  ioroentorieib 


^  / 


368 


APPSMOIZ. 


and  have  now  but  little  of  their  former  power  and  glory 
remaining,  and  under  which  Mexico,  just  upon  our  bor 
ders,  has  sunk  manifestly  beyond  the  power  of  recovery. 

**  J^t  each  individual  leek  to  awaken  an  interest  in  Uiii 
matter  in  the  n^nd  of  his  neighbor.  And  if  there  be  pa- 
llid estab|j»hi|ieote  in  the  neighborhood  under  the  names 
of  'pchoQlfy*  ^retreats,'  'reUgious  oommnnities,'  cmp  any 
other  designationi  which  are  at  variance  with,  of  are  not 
eonfiNrmed  t9»  the  laws  of  the  oommonwealtl^  in  which 
they  are  situated,  let  memorials  be  prepared  and  signed 
by  thfl  dtizens,  and  fwwarded  immediately  to  the  legisla^ 
ture,  praying  that  they  may  be  subjected  to  examination, 
and  required  to  oonf<mn  to  the  laws  by  which  all  Protest- 
i^it  institutions  of  a  pubUo  nature  are  governed. 

«  Let  us  exclude  from  our  national  jterritory  a}l  irre? 
pponsible  ins^tutic^s.  IM  us  seek  to  maintain  a  govern- 
ment of  law>  and  ioivst  upon  th^  equality  of  ail  i^lapei 
before  it" 

In  dosing  these  extracts,  we  beg  leave  to  eiiquress  our- 
selves in  the  words  of  the  ^v.  Dr.  Sunderland,  of  Wash- 
ington city,  in  a  sermon  delivered  before  the  American 
and  Foreign  Clirlftian  Union,  at  its  anniversary  in  May, 
1866. 

^^But  now  it  is  asked,  *  Why  all  this  tirade  against  Bo- 
man  Catholics?'  We  repel  the  implication.  It  is  not 
Ugainst  the  unhappy  millions  that  are  ground  down  under 
the  ir^dn  heel  of  that  mormons  despotism.  They  are  of 
the  common  humanity,  our  brethren  and  kinsmen,  accord* 
ing  to  the  flesh.  Tiiey  need  the  same  light,  instruction, 
and  salvati<m  that  we  needf  Like  ourselves  they  need 
the  (meiiijprod,  the  one  mediator  between  God  and  man^ 
the  man  Giurist  Jesus ;  and  from  the  heart  we  love  and 
pity  themt     We  would  grant  them  all  the  privileges 


Appnnnz* 


S(t9 


which  we  eltiia  to  AnrieWesi  We  e«D  ham  no  ukimoiiity 
towards  them  m  tten  and  eandldates  with  onnelTes  forth« 
coming  jadgment.  Bat  U  it  the  aytltWk  under  which 
they  are  boM,  and  IWtf  and  die,  I  repeat^  wbfdi  we  de- 
nonnce,  and  when  we  shall  cease  to  OpposO  it,  tiMn  lei  our 
right  hand  forget  her  canning)  and  our  lobgn«>|Dle«ve  M 
the  roof  of  car  month*  What  is  it  but  a  dark  and  ten!* 
ble  power  on  earth  beftxra  Which  so  many  honrfble  iaeaii»' 
ries  start  up  ?  Why,  sir,  look  ki  it  I  WO  drag  th«  bonea 
of  the  grim  behemoth  out  to  view,  for  we  would  not  have 
the  world  forget  his  ugliness  nor  the  terror  he  hat  in- 
spired. *  A  tirade  against  Romanism/ is  it  ?  O  sir,  we 
remember  the  persecutions  of  Justhuan ;  we  remember 
the  days  ci  the  Spanish  Inquisition ;  we  remember  the 
reign  of  *  the  bloodf  Mary; '  we  remember  the  rerocation 
of  the  Edict  of  Nantes ;  we  remember  St  Bartholomew ; 
we  remember  the  murdered  Covenanters,  Huguenots,  and 
Fiedmontese ;  we  remember  the  noble  martyrs  dying  for 
the  testimony  of  the  faith  along  the  ancient  Bhine;  we 
remember  the  later  wrath  which  pursued  the  islanders  of 
Madeira,  till  some  of  them  sought  refoge  upon  inese  shores ; 
we  remember  the  Madiai,  and  w^  know  how  the  beast  ever 
seeks  to  propagato  his  power,  by  force  where  he  can,  by 
deception  where  he  must.  And  when  we  remember  these 
things,  we  must  protest  against  the  forther  Tiger  and  pros- 
perity of.  this  grand  Babylon  of  all.  Take  it,  then,  tirade 
and  all,  for  so  ye  must,  ye  ministers  of  Rome,  sodden  with 
the  fumes  of  that  great  deep  of  abominations!  The 
Toice  of  the  Protestant  shall  never  be  hushed;  the  spirit 
of  Beformati(m  shall  never  sleep.  O,  lands  of  Fare!  and 
of  Calvin,  of  Zwingle  and  of  Luther!  O  countrlip  where 
the  trumpet  first  sounded,  marshalling  the  peofle  to  this 
fearful  contest!     We  have  heard  the  blast  rolMng  stiU 


370 


apphtdiz. 


W  loader  down  tL  *>ath  of  tibree  handred  jetn,  «nd  in  odr 
■did  mnstor-nuuroh  we  oome,  the  eUldren  <^  the  tenth 
Senerntkm.  We  eoine  a  growbg  phalanx,  not  with  car- 
nal weaponi,  hot  with  the  armor  lif  the  gocpel,  and  wield- 
ing the  tword  of  trath  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left, 
we  lay  thit  AnHekritt  mtul  falL  Hear  it,  yt  witneiies, 
and  maik  the  word;  bj  the  nu^eitj  ^f  the  ooming  Ung* 
dom  of  Jeeoi,  and  bj  the  eternal  poipote  of  Jehoyah,  TBii 

AimOBBIST  MVIT  f  AX.L."  .    '    > 


in,  and  io  odr 
B  of  the  lenth 
;,  not  with  ow- 
ipel,  and  wield- 
nd  on  the  Itft, 
ty  76  witnoMM, 
I  ooming  king* 
JehoyahiTBit 


A 


% 


.»»^rj 


